


Future Unwound, Fate Unbound

by macybon23



Category: Layton Brothers: Mystery Room, Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: And More Angst, Azran Legacy Spoilers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Layton's Mystery Journey Spoilers, Lots of words, Many chapters, Post-Unwound Future, Time Travel, Unwound Future Spoilers, also sorry for the feels that are coming, disregard most of Unwound Future I guess?, mom friend Claire, some Lucy and Al shipping, some possible Kat and Lucy shipping, sorry for the length it's a little long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-29 05:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macybon23/pseuds/macybon23
Summary: *Written as part of the Layton Big Bang 2018*Instead of being launched ten years into the future, Claire winds up many more years into the future, into the time of Kat’s adventures, where Hershel, the love of her life, has been missing for a long time. And where she’s been dead for years. Claire has to find a way to fix her situation soon… or die trying.Link to art for this piece: http://syrhetaku.tumblr.com/post/177133538098/my-illustration-for-the-laytonbigbang-this-is





	1. The Time Traveler

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> This is only my second work on this site and one of the few that I've ever finished so hallelujah for that. This has been the culmination of a long summer, filled with writing by me and drawing by my lovely artist silentyetreserved on tumblr. Please enjoy and also check out the other Big Bang writers and artists on tumblr, ff.net, and AO3.

To say that Claire was shocked that the experiment worked would be an understatement. As a scientist she had always been cautiously optimistic about the experiments she conducted. Certainly, the largest of her previous ones had been a levitation device that only worked for a few minutes, so her hopes couldn’t fall too hard. A time machine, however, was another matter altogether.

For a few moments after arriving in the future, she was too stunned to move. She had been dropped into a small park a few blocks from the laboratory. Claire knew it well, as she had frequented it during her lunch breaks where she and Hershel would sit and feed the birds. Her back currently lay pressed against an old tree. A soft trickling of water could be heard not far from where she sat, and she could only assume it was the small stream that snaked from one end of the park to the other. The tree and the brook were some of the only comforts that had withstood the test of time. The bench that she had loved had long since rotted. The beautiful stone fountain centerpiece of the park had cracked and crumbled to the ground; a rocky stump was all that remained. These things saddened her deeply, but as she tilted her head back to look towards the sky, a soft breeze rustled her hair. The sky still was as blue as when she had left her own time. The sun still filtered through the branches of the old tree. These things were the constants that grounded her.

The question of where she was answered and forgotten, the question of when she was still remained a mystery. Time had certainly passed, but how much time she could not easily deduce. Claire knew what she should do now that she had figured out where she was: find Dimitri. Surely her work partner would be expecting her in whatever time she would pop into, assuming he was still alive. His apartment was only a few blocks in the opposite direction from the lab. It had been discussed that should she actually travel into the near future, Dimitri would be the best person for a contact. Besides, he knew everything about the secret experiment, as did Claire, so he would be the one most able to help her.

Claire rose to her feet, brushing off the dirt and leaves that had dusted her clothes. She felt a bit unstable on her feet, but she put the thought aside, attributing it to her body adjusting to the new time. For a park that had been bustling in her time, she could easily see that the park in this time had been long since abandoned. She spotted not a single living soul (save for a few squirrels) until she reached the sidewalk. A woman slammed into her as she raced after a small child, looking back to glare at the time traveler. How rude, thought Claire. Everyone else on the street seemed to be in a hurry as well, including a young lady riding by on a bicycle. She wore a funny little hat and a beige overcoat that flowed behind her in the wind. A few cars honked at her, making Claire jump. The girl simply tossed her head back and laughed at them, completely unphased, even daring to stick out her tongue at the frowning drivers. What a peculiar young lady, Claire mused to herself.

She continued down the street until she reached a familiar block of flats. The fifth one was Dimitri’s, if she remembered correctly. “One, two, three… oh, dear.” The fourth and fifth sets of flats had sunken into the ground, with the upper flats charred from some past fire that had devastated the area. Her stomach filled with dread. How was she supposed to figure out how to get back to her own time without anyone to help her? Her feet became glued in place and all she could do was stare at the wreckage of what used to be residences, as destroyed as her chances of getting home quickly. Claire didn’t cry easily, nor would she now in the face of great unknowns. No, this was something she could handle. This was a historic moment in her life. She couldn’t afford to be discouraged now. So what another variable had been thrown into the equation? She could not give up.

Defiant of the odds now stacked against her, she decided to walk around in the hopes of spotting anything useful. A newspaper stand would be perfect, or a place she recognized, because none of the usual landmark buildings she had grown accustomed to seeing were surrounding her at the moment. The London she had known had changed so much in however much time had passed. She needed to determine where in time she had been thrown, if for nothing else than to silence one of the many burning questions in her mind. Her feet clacked against the pavement as she searched for a sign to help her. No one paid her any attention as she gawked at the buildings she passed and gazed at the storefronts in wonder, before reminding herself to continue on in her quest. Since when had the skyline stretched so high into the sky? How did those incredible inventions she saw in the windows of the stores work?

Claire took a turn down a street she remembered quite well from her time. It was a place she and Hershel had visited many times before called Chancer Lane. There was a beautiful little boutique across from a wonderful patisserie that made the best shortcakes she had ever tasted. To her relief, the patisserie was where it had always been, open for business. She made a mental note to visit it in her own time when she had a chance. Across from it was the boutique, still run by the same lively seamstress that called Chancer Lane home, fussing over the position of a sunhat on a mannequin head in the window. Next to it was a new sign, freshly made by the look of it. Claire’s eyes grew wide as she read the name on the sign: Layton Detective Agency. Layton? Could it be? Was this Hershel’s place, or was it run by someone else by the name Layton? Her heart hammered in her chest as she crossed the street toward the entrance. She rapped her knuckles lightly against the door.

A young man greeted her warmly. “Hello, welcome to the Layton Detective Agency. I’m afraid Miss Layton is out for the moment, but she’ll be back soon.” Miss? Claire shook the thought from her mind. No need for assumptions yet. He stepped aside to allow her to enter the office. “My name is Ernest, and yours is… ?” She froze. Would this man know her if she used her real identity? Surely not, but she couldn’t risk the possibility.

“Celeste,” she said unsurely. Ernest gave her a look to continue with her full name, and she added, “Foley. Celeste Foley.” She and Dimitri had reasoned that in the future she would have likely married and taken up the name of another, therefore her maiden name would not only be simpler, but useful. And even if she hadn’t, they had strung together the lie that she was an estranged younger sister to herself.

“I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Foley. I assume you came to see Miss Layton, so would you like to have a cup of tea while we wait?” This man was so kind and well-mannered, it reminded her of Hershel. She liked this Ernest, whoever he was.

“Ah, that sounds lovely! I’ll take whatever you have on hand.”

“Would Earl Grey do, miss?” Claire smiled. It was her absolute favorite.

“That would be perfect. Thank you.”

“Please take a seat and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a moment with your tea.” The boy disappeared into a side room, leaving her in the cluttered little office space. She took a seat on a white and blue striped sofa, taking in her surroundings. The round table in front of her held a perfectly arranged tea set ready at any moment for a friendly tea time. It reminded her of one that Hershel owned, actually.

Across the office lay a grumpy looking basset hound, looking up at her beneath drooping eyelids. If a dog could scowl, this dog was definitely scowling. Claire never thought a simple dog could make her so nervous with just a look, and she fidgeted beneath his icy glare.

“Sherl, would you please leave Miss Foley alone? Show her some respect, she’s a potential client.” The dog barked, and Ernest’s face turned bright red. “W-well I never! How dare you speak like that!” He paused when he realized he had spoken in front of her. “Oh, Miss Foley, um, here’s your tea.” He looked mortified as he poured the tea, avoiding her eyes and refusing to look back at the dog, who was looking rather pleased with himself. Did the dog and the boy understand each other?

“Shirley is it?” Claire asked, and Ernest dismissed it with a wave.

“Oh, no, miss. Sherl is named after Sherlock Holmes, Miss Layton’s favorite fictional detective. I believe the books are the reason she decided to become a detective at all.”

Claire smiled to herself. “Is Sherl an office mascot or a detective dog?” she asked lightheartedly. Sherl proceeded to defend himself in a series of barks, none of which she understood. “I see, a pampered office pooch then.” He began growl at her, just as the door burst open.

“Ah, Miss Layton! We have a client here with us,” said Ernest proudly. Claire wondered to herself how many clients they had ever received. The girl that she had seen flying down the street on a bike earlier in the day stood in the doorway, face flushed from the outdoors. Her bright blue eyes landed on Claire with a sparkle. In a moment she had bounced over to Claire’s side, looking entirely too eager.

“Hello, I’m Katrielle! What kind of case did you bring for me today? Is it exciting? Is it extraordinary?” Claire was completely unnerved by the unexpected energy of this young lady, and stared at her in awe. The girl’s eyes fell upon a tray of biscuits Ernest had laid out on the tea table. She immediately sat down across from Claire and shoved a couple in her mouth. If nothing else, Claire noted, at least the food seemed to ground her.

Ernest stepped over to explain the situation, saving Claire from the prior questions. “This is Miss Celeste Foley. We hadn’t the opportunity to discuss her case, but I’m sure it will pique your interest, Miss Layton.” She nodded absently, savoring the taste of the food in her mouth. After a few moments, she washed it down with some tea, returning to her usual energetic self.

“So what’s your case? What would you like the Layton Detective Agency to help you with today?” Kat leaned in anticipation over the table, making Claire even more uncomfortable.

“I, ah, well, I was wondering what the date was today,” she managed to squeak out. Katrielle looked puzzled, glancing over to her assistant who only shrugged.

“What purpose would you need the date for unless… you’re a time traveler!” exclaimed Kat, nearly knocking over the table in the process. This girl had guessed the extraordinary, and guessed right. She was truly remarkable.

“You’re not wrong, Miss Layton,” said Claire quietly. Ernest and Kat froze, trying to find the joke. She swallowed hard, then continued, “I’m from some years in the past, and I don’t know when I am exactly. My contact seems to have moved away, however, so for the moment I am in a bit of a bind. I saw the sign of your agency and recognized the name because of someone I once knew. I figured it might be a shot in the dark, but I didn’t have any better ideas.” Kat nodded slowly, processing the information.

“And who is this person?” Claire hesitated before answering, unsure as to whether she truly wanted to hear the truth about Hershel or not. But she had to know.

“Hershel Layton.”


	2. The Man of the Hour

Katrielle eyed Claire suspiciously. “How do you know my father?” Father? Oh, boy, could this be… her future daughter?

“In my time… he’s my boyfriend.” Kat’s blue gaze intensified as she strung together the bits of information into a more complete picture.

“I believe you that you’re a time traveler. But I don’t believe your name. Who are you really?” she said, leaning forward with a brow raised. Oh no, her identity was compromised. Well, so had many other things already on this adventure.

“It’s Claire, not Celeste,” she admitted. “I’m Claire Foley.” This was why she was a scientist, not an actress, she chided herself. She couldn’t maintain a lie for too long, especially not when she was being interrogated by someone as powerful as Katrielle. For someone so young she possessed such an intimidating presence. The kind that brought grown men to their knees in respect. No wonder this assistant seemed to worship the ground she walked on. He was hardly a grown man.

“Miss Foley,” Kat said, her expression suddenly softer. “I don’t know how to tell you this… but in our time… you died years ago. In a time travel experiment gone wrong.” No, that couldn’t be right. She was alive wasn’t she? She was here wasn’t she?

“That’s… there’s been a mistake, surely.” She searched their faces for any signs of doubt, but found only sympathy. Kat reached forward and took Claire’s hands in hers. A knot was forming in her throat but she stubbornly ignored it.

“When I was younger, I once asked my father why he never took off his top hat. He told me there was a woman by the name of Claire Foley that he had loved. He said that he wore the hat as a tribute to her, that he had worn it every day since the accident that had taken her from him.”

“Tell me more about the accident!” she cried, almost jumping from her seat.

“I don’t know anything more,” she sighed. “He refused to elaborate on the matter and we never spoke of it again. You were a sensitive subject with him.” Katrielle’s tender look was even more intense than her interrogating stare, breaking down Claire’s last emotional defenses.

“I need to see Hershel,” she demanded with a quivering lip. “Where is he?”

Kat shook her head. “I wish I knew. He’s been missing... for a few months now.” No, this day could not get much worse than this. First her death and now Hershel missing? She must be having a terrible nightmare. Her luck could not be this awful in her real life. “My brother and I have searched for him using all of our combined resources, but we ran out of leads to follow. It appears he disappeared without a trace, and no one has heard from him since.” 

It was at this moment that the strong Claire Foley finally fell apart, in the office of the detective agency that bore the name of her lover, but was not run by him. Instead his daughter was in charge, while he had disappeared to who knows where all while everyone believed that Claire Foley was long dead. Ernest thrust a box of tissues to her as she sobbed, graciously accepting a tissue to try to mop up the tears that poured down her face. It did nothing to make her appear any more presentable, and she soon gave up on trying to dab at her eyes. 

Claire’s world had fallen apart when she arrived at the future, and she was feeling the weight of it all upon her lonesome shoulders. Katrielle’s arms wrapped around her shaking figure, and she leaned into her warm shoulder. It soon was drenched in the tears of this woman from her father’s past. Seemingly a distant, sorrowful past. Claire cried for herself, she cried for Hershel for having to mourn her death for all these years. For her own stupid decision to travel through time on a whim without telling him. And apparently she never would get to say goodbye to him.

As Claire’s sobs quieted, Katrielle backed away, giving the clock a quick glance. “Claire, I need you to look at me.” Reluctantly, she met her eyes, now sitting at a balance between tender and determined. “We are going to figure out how to fix all of this, but not at this hour. I’ll have Ernest run over to my flat to set up the spare room for you. You can stay with me for the night, seeing as you don’t have anywhere else to go at the moment.” Claire nodded numbly, rocking back and forth slightly. Soft fingers brushed away a stray tear. “If you were - are -  important to my father, then you are important to me. I’ll take good care of you. I promise.” With a smile, she added, “And us Laytons keep our promises.”

That night, in the comfort of Kat’s apartment,  Claire lay wondering where in this time Hershel had gone. Was this her punishment for breaking the laws of nature? To be doomed to a time where the man she loved was nowhere to be found? The sounds of her own soft sobs saw her off to sleep in the early hours of the morning.


	3. Welcome to the New Age

The next morning, Claire awoke blissfully unaware of her present circumstances. It felt like a normal morning; the light filtering in through the curtains, a soft quilt laying over her body, sleeping on a couch was familiar enough by now after many all-nighters at work. She almost didn’t notice the dog watching her from a few feet away. Almost. And then it all came back to her. Nothing was normal anymore. At least, not her normal.

“Good morning, Claire!” shouted Kat from the kitchen. The sound of cereal pouring into bowls followed. Sitting up, a mug was thrust into her hand. “Fresh from the coffee pot,” Kat said with a wink before sauntering off again. How could Kat be in so many places at once? There were weirder forces in the world than Kat’s super speed, she thought to herself. The aroma of the hot coffee stabbed her senses awake. As a scientist, caffeine had become her lifeline and some things didn’t change because of traveling through time. The quilt still draped over her shoulders, Claire nursed the coffee while she watched Kat set up the table in front of her with their breakfast: bowls of a granola cereal with milk. Kat caught her staring and flashed her an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I acquired my sister Flora’s cooking skills. This is the only thing I can fix without having the fire department on speed dial.” And for the first time since arriving in the future, Claire laughed.

“I think you’ll find you’re in good company, Katrielle. There’s a reason Hershel and I always go out to eat instead of staying in.” Realizing what she said, she looked down at her mug. “I guess I need to stop referring to things in the present tense. In the past is where I’m from, and in the present is where he’s gone.” The cup of coffee was becoming more and more of a friend to her as she tried to suppress her feelings of despair.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Claire,” she said with a mouthful of cereal in her mouth. “I’ve taken off work today to spend time with you. We’re going to figure out just what you need to get yourself back to your time. In the meantime, however, I don’t see the harm in acquainting you with our time. It will make you feel more comfortable with things here, I think.” She shoved another spoonful in, then gulped it down. “So ask away.”

Claire blurted the first thing on her mind. “How old are you?”

Kat smiled knowingly before responding. “I think I know why you want to know, and I want to assure you that you were my father’s one and only love interest. He never took the hand of another.” Claire leaned forward. “That being said, I think you should know that I’m adopted. As are my siblings. All adopted.” Claire released a sigh of relief, causing a laugh from Kat. “I’m 21, in case you’re still wondering. And you?”

“Twenty-seven, the same age as Hershel in my time… oh, goodness.” She bit her lip thoughtfully. “How old is your father now?” Just how old would he appear to her now? How old should she be in this time?

“Hm, I believe he is in his fifties now. Yes, we just celebrated his 57th birthday this past summer… without him.” No wonder nothing was as Claire remembered it. She had traveled 30 years into the future.

“That’s… grand,” said Claire dejectedly. “I’m thirty years from my own time.”

“It’s not all doom and gloom, you know. Or at least, it doesn’t have to be. Would you like to hear more about my father's life? I can change topics if you’d prefer.”

Claire shook her head. “No, I want to learn more. Tell me everything about him. I need to know.”

“Hm,” she said, taking a sip of coffee. “Where do I begin?”

____________________________________________________________________________

As Kat finished recounting what she could of Hershel’s past, the sun hung high in the afternoon sky. Claire’s head was spinning from all of the new information. Advanced ancient civilizations that nearly caused the destruction of the world? A childhood friend that had been declared dead found alive and brainwashed into a villain? A long lost brother turned dark vigilante who wore the most atrocious attire? Could her Hershel have been at the center of all of this? It didn’t seem possible that her sweet, honest, and shy boyfriend had experienced so much in his lifetime. But then again, she wasn’t a part of this Hershel’s life. This was a Hershel who had learned to live without her in the world. This Hershel was a stranger. Would he even want to see her after all these years learning to cope with her death?

Claire rubbed her temples in an attempt to soothe the headache beginning to form. Her coffee had long since gone cold, the cereal from breakfast still sitting out and soggy. The depressing sight wasn’t helping her mood. Kat, seeing her agitation, dropped two painkillers in front of Claire. Then she cleared the table of their mess.

A cabinet door slammed shut, and Claire turned around just in time to catch Kat whipping back around the corner. “I have a friend that I’ve been meaning to visit recently. I think you would like her. Do you want to go?” Claire gave it a moment of thought. The day was still relatively young, and the two had already spent the majority of the day indoors together just sitting and talking. A visit with a new friend would be a nice break from it all.

“Certainly.”


	4. A Day on the Town

Claire expected to be leaving within the half hour. She could have used the time to redo her wavy ponytail, maybe spray a little perfume, take a moment to breathe. Kat had other plans. As soon as Claire had agreed, the girl dragged her out the door, not even locking it behind them. Her feet flew down the flights of stairs that led up to the apartment, and it took every ounce of Claire’s coordination not to trip over her own two feet. People stared at the odd pair, one sprinting forward, the other dragging along behind like a flag in the wind. Every step they took pulled them further into the city center. Buildings that Claire had marvelled at only the previous day now flew by her in streams of colors.

Suddenly, Kat stopped, barely out of breath. Claire doubled over in a heavy pant, barely able to string together what just happened. While she was gathering her thoughts, she heard the girl’s footsteps dash into a nearby building. A moment later, two sets of footsteps strode calmly towards a now less winded Claire.

“Lucy, Claire. Claire, Lucy,” said Kat proudly. Claire’s gaze climbed upward until she was met by a crimson stare, extremely alert and bright.

“Ey up, Claire. Are ya Kit’s new friend?” asked Lucy, placing her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side. “Kit, what did you do t’ this poor lass? She’s dead exhausted!” Lucy placed her hands on Claire’s shoulders and pulled her up to her full height. “Hm,” she said, studying her face, “you don’t seem like the type that usually falls in with my girl Kit. No, she attracts trouble, and you sure as ‘eck don’t look like trouble. Too straight ‘n narrow.”

“Um, thank you?” Claire replied.

Lucy chuckled. “Aye well it don’t matter a bit to me. A friend of Kit’s is a friend of mine.” Lucy glanced over her shoulder at an overly energetic Kat. “Ready to go, eh, Kitty Kat?” 

Her friend pouted at her. “You know I don’t like that nickname, Lucy.” Her frown crept into a grin and the two girls laughed. Kat grabbed Claire’s hand, though less forcefully this time, and the girls set off down the road. Today was going to be a girls’ day shopping adventure.

The trio passed a few random shops before settling on one that caught Lucy’s eye. She sprinted into the weapons shop with Kat close behind, leaving Claire to slip in after them. When her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the store, the sight before her was a bit frightening: Lucy was fawning over a very dangerous looking knife while the shop owner bragged about the quality of the item. Kat was no better, slowly pulling a pristine sword from its sheath, and proceeding to slice through the air in front of her in mock swordplay. Like the mother of a small child, Claire had to pry the sword from Kat’s grip and sit it out of reach as best as she could. Then, while dragging over a reluctant Kat behind her, she hurried Lucy and the owner to finish their deal. The girls continued down the street: one overdramatically sulking, one a bit too eager to play with her new knife, and one already exhausted from having to be the mom friend of the group.

However, the sun was still high in the sky, and it wasn’t long before Claire found a shop that intrigued her. It was one that had existed back in her time, though now it looked quite antiquated alongside its more contemporary neighbors. The door swung open with a jingle, and a white haired little old man shuffled toward them. He introduced himself, then guided the girls through a maze of stacks of books taller than a person and antiques - some of them common things in Claire’s time - until they reached a backroom full of his most prized treasures. She craned her neck to see all of the trinkets the man owned, on shelves that climbed from floor to ceiling, each one filled with wonders. There were too many beautiful items for her to take in. It made her dizzy keeping her head upward for so long. As she lowered her gaze, her eyes fell on a chessboard coated with a thick layer of dust. She blew on it, sending dust flying everywhere. The group coughed behind her as the dust swirled into the air. Once the cloud had cleared, Claire could see just how magnificent this chess set was. The board was a pristine black and white marble, surrounded by a border of dark stained wood. When she pried the storage part open, she found black and white marble chess pieces, each resembling a figure like those that she had seen in Hershel’s ancient archaeology textbooks.

“These are Azran, are they not?” she asked aloud to the shop owner.

“Indeed, miss. If you look at the board itself, there are engravings in their language along the edge.” She turned the board around in her hands, spotting the scorched etchings in the wood border. “Since you seem to know so much about the Azran, I’ll cut you a deal, miss. Half price for a fellow archaeologist.” She opened her mouth to protest, but clamped it shut in favor of a good deal. This wasn’t a purchase for herself, after all. She had someone special in mind for this. The customer and the owner shook on it, and soon she was setting off down the sidewalk again with a chessboard tucked under her arm and two bored friends following behind.

Knowing Kat and Lucy’s endless supply of energy and enthusiasm, soon Claire found herself trailing behind as the girls ran into a cute boutique. Groaning, she followed them in. Kat was already in the middle of trying on a stylish hat while Lucy was studying the jewelry selection. The little store’s owner was fussing over a messy stack of garments, and when she turned around, Claire gasped. The woman didn’t notice her as she helped Kat select a different hat to try. Her heart was beating a million times a minute. This lady would recognize her for certain. She had been Claire’s neighbor before the younger woman disappeared from the timeline.

Thankfully, Lucy provided a much needed distraction by accident, dropping a pair of earrings on the floor. The owner fell to her knees to pick up the expensive piece of jewelry, ignoring Lucy’s apologies. Claire chose that moment to slip out the door, closing it gently behind her. She pressed a hand to her chest to keep her heart from pounding its way out.

“Claire?” asked Lucy. Claire jumped and almost tripped over herself. Lucy caught her by the shoulders. “Are ya okay there? You look like you jus’ seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine, Lucy. Thank you.” She clutched the chess board in front of her, hugging it for dear life. “I... I recognize that woman. She was my neighbor… many years ago.”

“Ah, no worries, lass. She didn’t seem to take a liking to me either,” she said with a wink. Claire smiled gratefully at the girl. Soon Kat came bursting out the doors with a new hat atop her curly head and a shiny new charm on her purse.

“I like to get charms to celebrate important events, and you, Claire, are indeed an important event.” She lifted her bag to reveal a small clock charm, shaped like a small wall clock. Lucy barely got a glance at it as the bag flew from her hands. The three girls turned around, finding themselves face to face with three armed muggers.

As the attackers approached, Claire took a step forward. Kat and Lucy gasped behind her. The burliest of the bunch had a jagged scar running down the side of his chin, accenting his cruel sneer. His buddies were no more handsome, and even more menacing a sight. Claire spread her arms protectively in front of her new friends.

“Don’t you dare try to harm them,” she growled. “I won’t let you hurt my friends!” Kat and Lucy backed up to the wall, still rather frightened by the sudden turn of events. “Lucy, you and Kat run far away from here.” Lucy nodded, tugging at Kat’s arm.

“Claire-”

“No, Kat. Go now,” she ordered, and reluctantly Kat obeyed. The two slipped through the circle of men, and Claire watched as Lucy pulled out her new knife. Good girl, Lucy, she thought. The rookie cop would be able to handle herself against one of the goons, maybe two at most. Which meant Claire had to take on at least one of them herself.

“HEY! YOU DUMB BASTARDS COME FIGHT ME!” she screamed at the goons. As she had hoped, only one continued chasing the girls, two turning back to face her. Claire had no weapons, but she had her brain. Carefully, she set the chess board on the pavement behind her.

“And what do you want, little bitch?” said the biggest one, his ugly buddy walking up beside him.

In the steeliest voice she could manage despite the fear she felt, she replied, “I would like for you to return my friend’s purse to me.” His buddy waved it in front of her.

“Oh, this piece of garbage? Come and get it, you whore.” This wasn’t how she had wanted things to go down, but she wouldn’t back away now. There was too much to lose.

Claire sprinted at the first man, taking him by surprise as she slammed the heel of her hand into his abdomen, causing him to double over in pain. Then she stomped on his foot and at the same time shoved her other hand upwards on his nose. With just those few hits the man collapsed, and she didn’t even have to finish the sequence. The other man stared at her in shock, letting the bag slip from his thick fingers. Her eyes narrowed on his face, and instead of squaring up to fight, he turned and ran the opposite direction down the street.

Coming down from the adrenaline rush, she brushed off the dirt on the bag and glanced down the street in the direction that her friends had gone. She silently hoped the girls had been able to get somewhere safe. Collecting her chess board, she sprinted across the pavement.

“LUCY! KAT!” she cried, throwing a glance down each alley she passed. As she hurried past one of those dark alleys, she heard a garbage can fall over.

“Oof! Be careful, Kit!” hissed a familiar voice. Claire backtracked to see the two girls alive and well, a bit ruffled from crouching behind trash cans for too long.

“Claire!” screamed Kat as she spotted her, throwing her arms tightly around her neck. Lucy was soon to follow. Claire leaned into Kat’s shaking frame, realizing that she was beginning to cry. She passed the chess board and bag to Lucy so she could better hug her rattled young friend. “Why did you scare us like that? I thought you were going to get yourself killed!”

“Shh, Kat.” She ran a gentle hand over her hair. “I couldn’t let them hurt you. Either of you,” she said with a glance to Lucy. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if they did.”

“Thank you,” Kat whispered, squeezing Claire tighter. With her free hand not consumed in the bear hug, Claire tugged Lucy into the huddle.

“You’re included under that, Lucy.” The girl returned a grateful smile. Claire knew next to nothing about Lucy, but she could sense that she could use the extra love that Claire had to give her. Both of the young women could use a little mothering now and then, she decided, burying herself into the group hug.


	5. Jekyll and Hyde

Even though it was in the middle of the work week, Lucy and Kat both insisted that they all see each other again the following morning for breakfast. Claire didn’t disagree to a good meal outside of Kat’s cereal cuisine, but she had some concerns for the young women’s professions. As they parted with Lucy for the morning, she voiced her concerns.

“Aren’t you two missing quite a bit of work? Can Lucy afford to miss all this time with hardly any notice?”

“Of course, silly. I’m self-employed and currently not on any cases, and Lucy works under my brother. He’ll understand, and if he doesn’t, I’ll just have to change his mind. She winked at her. Claire didn’t have to imagine how persuasive Kat could be using little sister charm and puppy dog eyes. “Besides, between you and me, I think my brother has developed some feelings for our precious little Lucy. The poor thing doesn’t even recognize how much she’s changed him for the better.” She sighed. “Perhaps tomorrow we can walk Lucy to work and you can meet him. Alfendi doesn’t like visitors, but that’s never stopped me from dropping by whenever I feel like it, much to his distaste.” Kat’s clever grin once again spread across her face, betraying the exhaustion that had lined her face only moments before. “When we were kids…”

Black dots swam across Claire’s vision, and she tried to blink them away. Kat continued talking to her, but Claire couldn’t pay attention to her words. The black dots soon claimed her vision. Kat holding her up around her waist was what she first noticed when she came to.

“Claire, are you okay?” Claire tried to mumble that yes, she was fine, but the sight of her own skin distracted her. She was  _ glowing _ . Kat’s eyes grew wide at the sight, confirming that it was not a hallucination. “That’s definitely not normal. Do you think it has to do with time traveling?” Claire was still feeling very faint, so it was all she could do to slowly nod her head. 

While the world swam in her vision, she felt herself being led down the sidewalk away from the direction of Kat’s apartment. The girl swung her around to collapse onto a wooden bench, and then began pacing in front of her. Claire eyed her hazily while her friend talked - no, more like argued - with herself, suggesting ideas and then shaking them away. Her bouncy curls shook with every step, in a steady rhythm as the girl paced. She caught Claire staring, blue eyes swivelling to her.

“I know what we need to do. You said your contact knew as much as you about your experiment, correct?”

Claire nodded. “He knows at least as much as me, if not more. I was an assistant.”

“Then it stands to reason that if we find him, maybe he could make sure that you’re fine.” The blue eyes filled with concern. “You really scared me there for a moment. The fainting spell I could dismiss, but glowing like a lantern? Nope, not okay.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “So let’s go see someone who can help.”

As was becoming a habit with Kat, Claire found herself once again being half-dragged down the street, though she didn’t find it all that unpleasant. She was beginning to accept that the world moved too slowly for the young detective with the world at her fingertips. It was like a treadmill set to a low speed, and she just couldn’t stand it one bit. She needed to run, to feel the wind in her hair, to see the people flashing past. But for Claire, it was quite the opposite. The world spun too quickly, people entered and exited life at too fast a pace for her to ever adjust. Perhaps it had to do with time travel, but Claire suspected she had harbored such a tendency for much longer. It was what had drawn her to Hershel in the first place.

“We’re here!” announced Kat, disrupting her journey into the past. With a start, Claire realized where they were: Scotland Yard. The most shocking part of her realization was that it was the exact same faded brick structure as the one from her time, just a little worse for wear. She could have almost sworn she had never left her own time, save for the young woman waving her in who happened to be the daughter of her Hershel. 

Taking a deep breath, she strode inside.   
  
The officers of the Yard were always quite oblivious to their surroundings, which was probably why no one, even if they had recognized her, seemed to notice her presence, even with Kat at her side. That is, until a certain perky young woman nudged her on the shoulder.

“Ey up, Claire,” spoke Lucy. She gave a curt nod to Kat. “Ey up, Kit. What’s the lot of you doin’ ‘ere? Miss me already?” she asked with a wink, wrestling with a heavy armful of case files and documents.

“We need to see Alfendi… and maybe say hello to your friend in the lab as well?” Lucy frowned at Kat, a worried look furrowing her brow.

“He’s not in the best of his moods today.” She looked thoughtfully at Claire. “Claire might be alright, but he sure as ‘eck won’t be keen on seein’ ya ‘ere Kit. If she goes in without ya I think it’d be best.” Giving an elbow nudge to Kat, she said, “Chin up, lass. It’s all been real tough on ‘im lately. Surely you can understand, yeah?” A moment passed between them, and Kat nodded, biting back some hurt feelings.

“Lucy’s right. If he’s feeling particularly bitter today, seeing me wouldn’t be the best thing. We don’t always have the best relationship, especially since Dad... The last time I was here didn’t go so well. I’ll wait for you out here.” She nodded toward Lucy who had taken off down a corridor. “Give her a head start and follow her to their office.” A hand on Claire’s arm startled her. “Whatever you do, don’t be frightened. He can be scary and intimidating at times, but he wouldn’t hurt an innocent soul. Innocent being the key word there.” Before she could dwell much on those words, she felt the girl shove her towards the dusty hall that Lucy had disappeared down. Her steps echoed on the tile floors, the voices of the bustling lobby fading into the distance as she continued down the hall. In black print on the last door read a rather long and complex name. No one else was nearby, and the room sounded eerily quiet. Perhaps no one was…   
  
“Baker! Grab me that file,” barked a man’s voice.

“Aye, Prof,” said the recognizable voice of Lucy. Claire froze. She called him ‘Prof’. As in professor. Before she could back away, the door swung open. “Oh, hiya miss. Come on in.” 

The sight before her was hectic, but rather familiar. Stacks on top of other stacks of papers and files lay around the large office space. And where there were not papers there were books, and where there were not books there were… well, not much else. A large desk, also covered in papers, sat in the back of the room, and a smaller one, considerably less cluttered, sat on the left closer to the door. On the right a large contraption took up the remaining free space. The scientist in her wondered what it did, but a clearing of a throat brought her back.   
  
“And who might you be?” greeted the man impatiently. This son of Hershel seemed to be nothing like him at all. The man’s hair was a dark crimson that hung in unruly locks around his face, tied up in the back loosely. His eyes were enigmas, changing from bright embers to cool amber as he bore into her. His lanky figure was clothed in a red and blue striped sweater with a white lab coat haphazardly thrown over the ensemble. He reminded her more of herself than Hershel, which elicited a shudder.   
  
“I’m… Claire.” It felt odd to be able to use her own name again. “Claire Foley.” The man leaned forward over the desk.   
  
“Inspector Alfendi Layton. I see you’ve already met my assistant Miss Baker,” he said, nodding to the bouncy girl by the door. “What can we do for you?” The man seemed much calmer now, rather placid. Claire relaxed a bit in his presence.

“I’m looking for someone, someone who I’m not sure still lives in London.”  _ Or lives at all,  _ she thought to herself. The young man rolled his eyes and slumped back into his chair.

“And you couldn’t use a phone book? You had to barge in here and waste my time on something so pointless?” The flame had returned to Alfendi’s hair and eyes, a fire that frightened Claire. But she refused to let him intimidate her into leaving.

“I could have, I suppose, but it was at the suggestion of your sister that I came down here-”

“KAT!” he shouted, loud enough that all of London could have presumably heard the call. Lucy yelped and knocked her chair to the floor with a loud thud. “Where is my bratty sister hiding?” He leapt from his chair to his feet, pacing like an infuriated tiger. “And why did she send you here, to me? That girl just wants to waste my time again,” grumbled. Claire’s heart was lodged in her throat, pounding away and preventing any sound from coming from her lips.

“I… I’m…” She didn’t know what to say. What was she supposed to say? 

“Spit it out, woman!” he growled. She yelped.

“I’m looking for your father,” she said quickly, surprising herself with her answer. It wasn’t the truth, was it? Dimitri was who she needed to find. But it wasn’t quite a lie either, not really.

“Why do you need to find my father?” he asked sternly.

“I’m…” knowing no other way to describe herself, she settled for, “Claire.” Alfendi slammed a fist on the table.   
  
“I know your name already, woman! I want to know why you’re snooping around for him,” he demanded. This sudden change in the inspector shocked her. Had he always been this volatile? Was this how Hershel had raised his son to be?   


“I’m  _ his _ Claire,” she said timidly, looking away. “I’m the one that… died.” She braced herself for him to lose his temper again, but instead he remained silent. As she looked up, wide yellow eyes stared into hers, softer and paler now.

“You… can’t be her.” He shook his head. “My father told me stories about you, how you were his one true love, how you… died in the time travel experiment.” She nodded glumly. She should have died.

Behind her, a door opened and closed, and the man lifted his gaze to the newcomer. “I wondered where you had disappeared to. I see you brought back a stray Kat.” Claire turned around to see her two friends sheepishly standing against the back wall, seemingly unsure of how Alfendi would react to their presence.

“Hello, Alfendi. It’s been a while,” said Kat softly. She had never heard the girl sound so small until this moment.

“Kat,” he growled. “How did you get mixed up with the time traveling girlfriend from our father’s past?” His amber eyes bore into his younger sister with the intensity of an interrogation of a suspect, but she didn’t wither beneath his fierce gaze.

“She found me,” she said simply. “The Layton name drew her in to my agency.”

“Hm,” he paused, a smile creeping onto his face. “I should have known. Trouble always seems to find you.” The siblings both grinned at each other, about some inside joke that neither Claire nor Lucy could possibly know or understand. Alfendi broke their connection, retaking his seat, and turned back to Claire. “So what do you want to know about my father’s disappearance? He has been missing for quite some time now.”

“A few months. Kat told me everything she knew about that. And I’d like to help.” The inspector’s face lit up in sudden interest, glancing to the girls behind Claire. 

“Oh, did she now? It seems that my dear sister changed one major detail in her account of his disappearance. I think you’ll find it rather intriguing.” Claire waited for him to continue. With a cold glint in his eye, he leaned forward. “My father has been missing for eleven years.”

All of the warmth and air left the room in that one sentence. Surely a man like Hershel, who had done so many incredible things, couldn’t have been missing for so long? A father would have left a note, a trace, a trail, or better yet never left at all. Could it have been that her dear beloved Hershel had left his family, or was something more ominous at play? In her vague awareness, she noted briefly how Kat and Alfendi were yelling at each other in a heated argument, with Lucy barely acting as a buffer between them. For Claire, her surroundings were moving like molasses as her mind struggled to accept the facts she had been given. 

During the entirety of her relationship with Hershel, they had always dreamed together of what the future may hold for them. Satisfying careers, marriage, and children usually always came to mind. It seemed that for Hershel, two of those things had finally come true. But Claire had to wonder if that had really been enough for him. The man she remembered was loyal to a fault to those he cared for. She couldn’t bring herself to accept that Hershel had left his family on purpose. For eleven years. No, something foul must have happened. 

Slowly, the scene around her sped back up to normal speed. Kat stormed out of the room with a loud slam of the door, leaving a breathless flushed Alfendi and a shocked Lucy in her wake.

“Eleven years?” whispered Claire. Amber eyes landed on her with pity instead of the insensitive coldness that had been in them before, his hair returning to a calm purple.

“Yes, Ms. Foley. I’m sorry that my sister hid that from you, I really am. But I understand that she was trying to save you from further shock.” He sighed deeply. “I certainly don’t  _ agree _ with my sister’s actions, but I do understand what she was trying to do. Anyways, it isn’t worth it for you to go looking for him. We don’t know anything about his whereabouts for the past eleven years, and not for lack of investigation.

“So I must ask, is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked kindly. Claire’s head was still spinning with so many flashes of thought concerning Hershel, many unanswerable by his son, but there was one other unanswered question on her mind that she knew Alfendi could try to answer. The original one that brought her to his office in the first place. One that she knew would help her with her… illuminating problem.

“Could you help me locate an old friend of mine?”


	6. Raiin on My Parade

Later that afternoon, without Kat by her side, Claire stood in front of Dimitri’s new residence. The crumpled piece of paper bearing the information had been crushed and smoothed out in her fidgety hands over and over again, turning it into something resembling tissue paper. The handwritten address was hardly legible anymore, but it didn’t matter. She had memorized every line of it by heart over the course of her walk. Why was she so nervous? It wasn’t like Dimitri was a stranger. Well, that wasn’t quite right, because this Dimitri wasn’t someone she knew. Not in any recent sense, at least.

Claire took a deep breath to ready herself, then raised her fist to the door... and hesitated. What if he didn’t recognize her? It was a silly question. Of course he would recognize her. Sure some time had passed but thirty years still couldn’t fully erase her from everyone’s minds. Or at least she hoped so.

She knocked and waited, listening. The floorboards creaked in the rhythm of someone shuffling across. Closer, and closer they came. Then they stopped. Claire held her breath.

The door swung open to reveal a stumbling Dimitri. “C-Claire?” He stared at her, squinting his eyes in the bright lights of the hallway. The lingering odor of rum wafted over to her nose. He stumbled forward, Claire only just catching him before he hit the floor, and he tossed his arms around her neck. “CLAIRE!” he wailed, causing an annoyed neighbor to open their door to see what the ruckus was about. Embarrassed, Claire shoved Dimitri back into the dim apartment. She slammed the door and turned back around to the dumbfounded scientist.

“Dimitri, I need your help. Do you still have your research from the time travel experiment?” He simply blinked in response, his eyes unfocused. Claire slapped him hard across the face. “DIMITRI!”

“Wha- wait, Claire?! What’s going on?” he slurred, slightly more competent than before. “What trick...” he gasped, “oh my god, it worked?” Finally, the man had regained some sense.

“Yes, it worked... well, sort of. You see, I’m here, but I’ve been having some issues with-” his arms wrapped around her again, this time firmly.

“I thought you died,” he whispered in disbelief.

“Yeah, well, I suppose everyone else did too-”

“I found your body.” Her blood ran cold. She pried his arms away from her and looked him dead in the eye.

“You... what? Explain. Now.” She dragged him over to a sofa littered in glass bottles and discarded pieces of paper with physics scrabbles, setting him down firmly. “Alright, talk,” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

The bleary eyed man looked up at her with sadness clinging beneath his eyes in dark rings. “It was minutes after the explosion. As you know I wasn’t there at first.” He sighed. “That was my first mistake. My second was not killing that bastard of a partner as soon as I worked it all out.”

“Wait, who?”

He laughed dryly. “Well, who do you think? That scumbag made some shady deals with our work and became the prime minister.” Dimitri picked up a week old newspaper and tossed it to her, with the prime minister’s face plastered on the front page beneath a praising headline. The realization knocked her back.

“Bill?!” she squeaked. “But why would he-”

“Power. Greed. He was corrupt.” Dimitri massaged his temples. “He was never one of us. Hawks made promises to influential people that depended on making the time machine as quickly as possible.

“As you know we all double and triple checked the calculations, but I realized the morning of the experiment that there was one equation that was a figure off. Just one damn number! One number led to the explosion.

“But you know the most awful part of it all?” he asked, blue eyes aflame. “Bill knew that it wouldn’t work!” He rose unsteadily to his feet. “He knew before you even stepped foot in that bloody machine! That bastard knew that you were going to die and he went along with it all anyway!” he cried, voice breaking. Claire could hardly believe it. Bill trading their work for political gain? They were a team! Or was that all an illusion? Was all of their comradery fake? The hours spent on late night research with cups of coffee on standby. The early test runs and countless disheartening failed attempts. The casual conversations that flowed during breaks in their work. How much of it wasn’t pretend?

Claire ran to Dimitri and held him close. “Thank you,” she whispered. For what exactly, she couldn’t say. There was so much that she owed him for in her life. His friendship, most importantly. It was one of the most real things she ever had. She probably would have gone crazy cooped up in that damp basement level research lab if he hadn’t kept her grounded. And for now, being here and not turning her away, for explaining what had happened even though it pained him to do so. His arms shakily slid around her back, and he nestled his face in her shoulder. After a few moments, he jumped back in alarm.

“What the heck?” he exclaimed, and Claire faltered where she stood without his support. Black dots swam in her vision, but she was able to catch herself before falling. The dizzying sensation passed as quickly as it came. “Why are you glowing?!” shouted Dimitri, in near hysterics. She shushed him and held onto his wrists.

“Listen to me. I need your help, Dimitri. This problem I’ve been experiencing, it has to do with my time traveling. I’m sure of it.” She sighed. “There’s no one I trust more in this world to help me figure out a solution to this than you,” she said with a small smile. His face shifted from one of concern to one of determination.

“Absolutely!”

Over the course of an hour, Dimitri hunted down every last scrap of his research papers from their experiment thirty years ago. Some pieces hid in resolutely stuck drawers that hadn’t been pried open for a long while. Others were hidden beneath piles of garbage underneath a bed, or a table, or a wardrobe. And even more had been shoved into stacks within his closets, among a mixture of clean and dirty laundry. Dimitri was even worse at keeping organized than herself and Hershel combined, she thought with amusement.

The flat wasn’t all that different from his old one. But the part that intrigued her was how Dimitri’s housekeeping had changed. Though they often weren’t home enough to regularly clean, Dimitri had always been the better of the two of them at keeping his place decent for general company. She had complimented him frequently on the way he somehow found time to do a few things here and there. But this dump? This was far from manageable.

Now that she came to think of it, when did Dimitri drink hard liquor? Together they had shared a glass of wine over dinner occasionally, or some celebratory champagne with a successful test. But the Dimitri she had known could never bring himself to drink anything more. He had claimed he had an image to maintain, a certain dignity that he didn’t dare to lose in a bottle. What had changed to make all of this happen?

Triumphantly, he placed the complete stack in front of her on the coffee table. Noting her puzzled frown, he took in the state of his dwelling.

“Let’s see here, I’ll clean up this place, and you can take the bedroom, and I’ll take the couch…” he proceeded to wander around the living area, pointing out everything that would need to be done to make his home acceptable for his guest. She followed him silently, letting him ramble on about making up the bed, discarding the bottles and trash, scrubbing the bathroom tiles until they sparkled, buying some items to fill his barren cupboards, and only when he began to act on his chore list did she finally stop him with an amused giggle.

“Oh, Dimitri,” she said, taking one of the empty bottles from his hands. “You don’t need to do any of that. I already have a place I’m staying not far from here, with Hershel’s daughter, Katrielle. She’s letting me have her spare bedroom while I’m here.”

Like a light switch, something changed. A glint in his eye, a sudden coldness that replaced whatever warmth and kindness had been there before. The bright blue irises clouded over to dull gray, and his lip rose in a snarl. A panic rose in Claire’s throat, as he took a step toward her. She hoped that he couldn’t sense it. The steely glare entrapped her in a frozen fright. This was not her Dimitri. This was not her friend. 

“How DARE you utter his name in my presence?” he growled. Instinctively, she took a step back towards the door. No, this couldn’t be happening, she thought.

“Dimitri, please, I’m sorry that I upset you-”

“Why could you never love me like you loved him? What did he have that I never did? Tell me! Tell me what I did wrong!” Spit flew from his lips as he raged, gesturing wildly with his arms in the air. “I’m better than a THOUSAND Hershels and you never even gave me a chance to show you!” With a thump, Claire backed into a wall. Her fingers felt around searching for the door, not daring to turn to look for it.

“We can talk about this, please calm down-”

“Where’s your lover now?” he continued, blue eyes livid. Claire inwardly winced. “I bet he’s still the pathetic idiot that he always was, never treating you as well as I could. I could give you the life you always dreamed of!” 

Her fingers closed around a door handle. This was no place for her to stay. Perhaps she could check back on him later once he got these foolish notions of jealousy out of his system. And then they could work together on figuring out how to stabilize her condition, and get her back to her own time. One… two…

Dimitri’s face was suddenly next to hers, whispering in her ear, “I could kill him, you know. Then you’d have no choice but to be with me.” Terror flooded her veins from the hungry fire in his cold eyes. It left nothing to the imagination of what he was capable of. This man who was possessed by a demonic hellfire. Despite her effort to not show her inner fear, a twitch developed in her lower lip. A detail this monster didn’t fail to notice. The grin that spread across his face revealed his slightly pointed canines. Were they always this long, or was her imagination getting the best of her? “Where is he, Claire?”

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. The truth had a habit of slipping from her lips when she was panicked. Panic was certainly the mildest of words Claire could use to describe the fear this man instilled in her bones. Dimitri chuckled, brushing his hand against her cheek. A shudder shook through her small frame.

“Oh, you poor pretty thing. I could give you the world if only you’d let me.” He paused, his face slipping into one deadly sincerity. “But you never will, will you? Thirty years and still you go to him.” He cast a glance to the papers on the table. “Well I can’t stop you, but I can make damn sure you never have any help from me.”

From his pocket he produced a lighter, presumably from another new habit of his. Never taking his eyes off Claire, he chucked it over his shoulder. It landed perfectly atop the pile of his research. And perfectly the sheets caught, the orange flickers of flame spreading throughout the stack. Claire watched in horror as every last piece of their notes, data, and research went up in flames. She lunged for the table, but Dimitri held her back by her waist.

“Good luck, Miss Foley,” he hissed in her ear. “Without me you’ll never be happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special shout out to my friend Raii (@tricksterocelot on tumblr) who has a thing for Dimitri. This chapter is dedicated to them.


	7. Fire and the Flood

Claire burst into the open outside the apartment, gulping in the clearer city air. The tang of smoke wouldn’t leave her mouth and nose. It clung to her clothes, which were ashen and stained. The skies above her boomed, frightening her. Without any further warning, the heavens opened up, releasing their fury. Cold rain pelted her exposed skin, sending shivers down her spine. Curls of ginger hair fell from her ponytail and plastered themselves against her face. She curled into a ball sitting on the edge of the sidewalk.

Why did this have to happen to her? She thought back to all the time she had ever spent with Dimitri. None of it hinted that this would be the outcome in the years to come. Casual moments spent in conversation over cups of coffee, falling asleep together on textbooks, eating take out while reviewing data; it just didn’t add up. So what if he harbored some feelings for her? Surely that didn’t warrant this kind of response. She was a free woman, after all! Free to make her own choices in love without needing to fear the wrath of her coworker.

Oh, how she wished she could have Hershel by her side through it all. Unlike other women that she had known over the years, she didn’t need him with her every second of every day. But when it had mattered, they had each other. And now she had none of that. No Hershel at all, just herself. And ‘just herself’ was getting overwhelmed with the gravity of her situation.

The rain suddenly stopped falling on her, and she raised her bleary eyes to see what had caused it. A black umbrella hovered over her, a mop of crimson hair and a pair of amber eyes huddled under it as well. His casual, lopsided grin betrayed the hue of his hair.

“You look like you could use somebody to walk you home. May I?” he asked, extending a hand to her. She accepted it, letting him pull her to her feet. His eyes wandered over her head towards the smoky building. “I see things didn’t go quite as planned?” She shook her head. “Well, I suppose we should just get you back to Kat’s then. I’m sure she’s worried sick by now.”

“Why would you say that? She left me at the station,” Claire said dejectedly.

Alfendi chuckled. “She has a pretty nasty temper, but she recovers quickly. By now she’ll be sorry about it all, and be really concerned about what happened to you.” He reached an arm around her shoulders, pulling her shivering frame into the warmth of his blue woolen coat. She resisted the urge to sigh at the comfort. They walked in silence, the pattering of the rain on the sidewalk and the umbrella all the sound they needed. But her fears could not be silenced. They raged and roared in her head, demanding her attention to feed them. To make them grow. To make them  _ real _ .

_ How will you do anything without Dimitri? You’re only a scientist’s assistant. You can’t fix any of this now. You’re stuck here forever and you’ll never make things right. You’re nothing. You’re worthless. Why even try- _

“Alfendi, why does your hair change colors?” she asked. It was just the kind of absurd question to drown out the more pressing ones that she didn’t want to hear.

“So you noticed, hm? Well, I suppose it’s a bit of a long story. To cut it short, however, I’ll just say that I had an accident four years ago that left me almost dead, and the experience created a second personality in me. Lucy calls the more brash version of me Potty. That’s the original personality. And the other one, the calmer one, she calls Placid.” He absently ran a hand through his currently crimson hair. “The color changes correspond with the different personalities. Potty is crimson, Placid is purple.” She studied the face of the man before her. Despite his hair currently showing the Potty trait, he seemed at ease, calm, and dare she say it gentlemanly. This was nothing like the man she had seen in the office earlier today. None of the quick temper and sharp words, instead just kindness and compassion.

“How are you so calm if Potty is the one on display right now?” He simply shrugged.

“Nothing is quite so clear cut in life, is it? Potty can be volatile, but also caring and friendly. Placid can be quiet, but also scary serious.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “Let me guess, you want to get back to your own time to prevent this one from happening, but you also are curious about where my father is, aren’t you?” Her shocked silence was her only reply. “I figured as such. You two are alike in that you can’t leave a good puzzle unsolved.”

They resumed walking in silence. Claire pondered her next actions. How would she even begin to remedy the situation without her team’s notes from the experiment? All of her equipment would be long gone. The people she had trusted to keep her safe in this endeavor, to keep her secrets, to keep her alive, had all abandoned her for their own benefit. Her hard work and safety had been squandered to further a political agenda. Her ability to get back to her own time alive without having to die had been squandered by a vengeful unrequited lover. Was there no one left to trust? Could she even trust Hershel’s children, people she had just met? Well, she supposed, she didn’t have much choice in that matter anymore. Minus an absent Hershel, they were the only people left in this time that hadn’t betrayed her yet. She would just have to be vigilant.

Her mind drifted back to Hershel. Oh, sweet, loving Hershel. Without the equipment to take her further back in time to prevent the tragedy, she would be doomed to return to the moment just before she died, never changing the outcome of events. Those wonderful days of their youth, in school, in studies, would all still end in her death. School… studies… A thought came to her. She knew of one place left in the world where she might be able to get the information she needed.

Alfendi yelped as an excited Claire half-dragged him down the street in the rain, not unlike a certain ginger haired detective they both knew.


	8. Gettin' You Home

“If the dean is anything like I remember him, he’ll still be here long after the university has closed for the evening,” said Claire confidently as the pair stood in front of Gressenheller University.

“What makes you so certain he can help you?” asked Alfendi.

“I don’t. I don’t know that anyone can, but I do know this is the last place I can possibly find what I need.” He turned to her and shook his head.

“You and Kat go hand in hand, I swear.”

Claire pressed hand to the heavy oak doors, and they swung open on well-greased hinges soundlessly. She hummed a sound of satisfaction and held the door for Alfendi. As they entered the large foyer of the building, they were overcome with the warm musty aroma of an aged building. Everything was exactly as Claire remembered, from the wooden archways to the yellow and cream tiled floors. If memory served her right, the university dean’s office was just down the leftmost corridor at the very end. Alfendi strode past her in that direction before she could lead. It figured in her mind that the children of the professor would know Gressenheller like the back of their hands as well as the professor himself. They probably grew up here, after all.

At the end of the long tiled hall, the pair paused. The door with the Gressenheller seal on the glass was all that separated them from the dean of the prestigious university.

“Are you sure about this?” Alfendi asked.

“Yes.” She rapped lightly on the door. A chair creaked, and they could hear a pair of shuffling feet. The door slowly opened to reveal a very aged Dean Delmona in front of them. His beady eyes squinted at them through small wire frames sitting upon his nose. First he glanced over Alfendi, who offered a shy smile at the old man. Then he swivelled to face Claire. The little man studied her carefully, thoroughly. Just when Claire was certain that she would get nowhere with him, a happy grin spread across his features.

“Claire! My goodness, what a sight! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Claire was slightly puzzled by his response, but relieved nonetheless. Finally someone that knew her in this time!

“Yes, it has, Dean Delmona.”

“I’m so happy that Hershel will be joining our esteemed faculty soon. Dr. Shrader is especially pleased with his work.” The old man continued to beam at her, and she realized why he remembered her. His mind was back in her own time. Dr. Shrader had retired quite some time ago in this time. Her heart sank, but she kept up a smile.

“Yes, I’m happy for him. He’s so excited to start his career here at Gressenheller.” She glanced over to Alfendi who was hiding his face from the conversating pair. “Say, Dean Delmona, could I ask a favor of you?”

“Of course, my dear! Anything for the fiance of the beloved scholar!” Her blood ran cold and a warm blush spread across her face.

“No, no, um… ahem, you see, Hershel and I aren’t…”

“Oh, no! He hasn’t asked you yet has he? I told him he better act soon or else-”

“What?!” both Alfendi and Claire shouted. Dean Delmona glanced between the two of them and chuckled.

“He spent months trying to decide on a ring, poor smitten fellow. And I told him of this great restaurant downtown that my wife and I love going to that I thought would be the perfect place to pop the question…” 

Claire’s mind was racing a million miles a minute. HERSHEL WAS GOING TO PROPOSE?! Of course they had discussed casually plans for the future, but never in terms of marriage or anything. Could it be that he would have proposed to her if she had lived? Would they have been married by now if she hadn’t stepped into that blasted time machine? They could have had children, a house, a pet or two… all of that was obliterated by the events of that one fateful day, the one that brought her here. An elbow nudge knocked her back into the present moment, where a happy old dean was smiling at her, unaware of the panic in her bones. Alfendi whispered her name, and she was reminded of why she was standing here before this man in the first place.

“Oh, ah, yes, about that favor. Could I have access to the science archives? I believe you kept some of my papers in there that I would like to reference for something I’m working on.” The old man waved his hand dismissively and began shuffling past them.

“Now, now, my dear. I can do you one better. Follow me.”

A puzzled Alfendi and equally intrigued Claire followed Dean Delmona slowly through the wooden flanked halls of Gressenheller. Their steps, which clacked like typewriter keys on the tiled floors, echoed through the empty hallways. Claire could remember many times wandering down these same halls with Hershel, lost in conversation with him as they walked together to classes. Those really had been wonderful times, and to her, still rather recent times. But the memories she held so dear were over thirty years in the history books. No one who was a student here would remember the then new professor or his former girlfriend who had once been a student alongside him.

They turned a corner down the science hall, which was lined with posters and glass display cases showcasing the latest of the students’ projects and discoveries. Claire had once had some simple time research featured in a poster plastered on the wall herself. It was that very research that had landed her the position in Dimitri and Bill’s lab as their assistant. And eventual lab rat, of course. The thought left a sour taste in her mouth.

The dean stopped in front of a door with the familiar words ‘Science Laboratory’ printed on the glass. He fumbled with a large ring of keys before he found the right one, and jiggled it in the lock until it slid. The door swung open, and a rush of musty, foul air assaulted their senses. A moment later, a switch was flicked, and lights illuminated the large room. Claire couldn’t believe it. The room appeared as if it hadn’t been touched in years, maybe since her time. Dust coated every surface, but she could still make out the same equipment she had used to conduct her first student experiments.

“This is all yours, Claire,” the old man said reverently.

Stunned, she turned to him. “Dean Delmona, surely you can’t be serious? All of this for me?”

The old man laughed, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “I am very serious. This lab hasn’t seen much use lately, and it would be fitting to let a superb scientist such as yourself give it proper usage. Most of the science students have moved on to other universities; we hardly have any students around to keep this area populated. You should be left rather undisturbed in your work in here.” He turned to leave, and glanced over his shoulder at Alfendi, who was standing just inside the doorway, almost forgotten. “And you, you better help Ms. Foley get back to her own time. There’s no better than a son of Hershel Layton to help a lady find her way home.”

The two stood agawk watching a chuckling old dean shuffle once more down the hallway, leaving them behind in the fluorescent glow of the lab’s lights.

“How did he… ?” said Alfendi.

She shook her head. “The world may never know,” sighed Claire at last. She was getting a little tired of the surprises this time period had to offer. A nice hour without any groundbreaking news would be much appreciated.

Taking a moment to look at the room in a new perspective, she could see a lot of work needed to be done to make this space into a functioning lab for herself. For starters, the lab equipment that lined the walls, as well as the long lab benches, all needed to be cleared of dust and the years of grime buildup on their metal surfaces. And then all of the specialized, delicate equipment would require a meticulous cleaning of the lenses. All of which would take up a couple of week’s time, and not even including all of the bookkeeping that needed to be done to sort through the various textbooks and scientific journals haphazardly thrown onto the bookcases that ran across an entire wall. This space had once been her home, and she would make it be hers again.

“Alfendi, how good are you with a feather duster?”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Though Claire would have loved to have gotten to work right away on the lab, Alfendi convinced her that they should continue this with fresh minds in the morning. Not only that, but he really wanted to get her back to Kat before she unleashed the whole of Scotland Yard in pursuit of Claire. He wasn’t joking. She had Inspector Hastings and Commissioner Barton on speed dial.

So Claire and Alfendi began the long walk through the humid night air, and despite the silence, Claire’s mind was loud and racing. More than ever, she wanted to get back to Hershel to make things right. But there were things that had to be done here first, like finding the Hershel of this time. Yes, this wasn’t her Hershel, and finding him wouldn’t change anything of her own time. She knew all of this. Logic told her finding him was irrational and pointless in the grand scheme of things. But her heart told her that in whatever universe, in whatever timeline, if there was a Hershel in need of help, she had to find him. It was her personal duty to do so.

Black spots swam in her vision and Alfendi caught her glowing arm as she staggered. She was getting a bit too used to the sensation now. The loss of feeling in her limbs, the swimming vision, the swirling thoughts. It didn’t catch her by surprise as much.

But it did bring to her attention something else that she hadn’t quite realized yet: she didn’t have long before her fate was no longer her choice. If she didn’t get to work on the time machine and figure out how to go back to sometime just before she stepped foot in the first time machine, then she would eventually be drawn back to the moment that she should have died, but for real this time. There would be no opportunity for a happy ending, no ifs, ands, or buts with fate. It would be sealed for good. So no, though it pained her to admit, she could not afford to waste time looking for Hershel on her own. If it were to be done, it had to be by someone else.

“Alfendi, when did you stop looking for your father?” she asked, breaking the silence of their late night walk.

He shrugged. “I don’t suppose I really ever stopped, but it did all start to get cold when we ran out of leads. We ran out of people to ask if they’d heard from him lately. The hospitals no longer found our inquiries into their John Doe’s worth their time. My own police department called off the search for him when they saw how futile it all would be for them.” He stopped and turned to her. “But I never had the emotional stamina that Kat has. She never stopped looking for him, never stopped walking the streets with his picture in hand.”

“If I asked you to, would you reopen the investigation? Start looking for him again?” she asked. He started walking away, hair glinting crimson beneath the streetlamp above. “Wait!” She caught his wrist. “Don’t you want to see him again?”

He spun around and towered over her shorter figure. “DO YOU HONESTLY THINK THAT I’D WANT MY FATHER TO BE MISSING FOR ELEVEN YEARS?” Venom raged through his words and Claire could only stand in place while he spat at her. Upon seeing the fear in her eyes, he took a moment to calm himself back down, hair returning to purple. “I just don’t know where I’d even start. We tracked down every lead years ago, all dead ends. It’s as cold as a case can get.”

Hm, she thought. He had a point. What lead could she possibly think of that he hadn’t already hunted down himself? The son of Hershel would know almost everything about him that she did. But he didn’t know the Hershel that existed  _ before _ he became a professor. The quiet graduate student that never wanted to be in the spotlight for anything, yet became a professor whose face was plastered on newspapers and whose name was revered in the headlines. If she could only figure out what information she knew about him that others didn’t, there would be a new place to start looking.

“Give me some time to think about it, but if or when I do dig up something, would you humor me by following up on it?” Looking at Alfendi’s face now, she saw not the boy who was waiting for his father to come home, but the man who had come to accept that he probably wouldn’t. Eleven years was a long time considering that Hershel’s children were just that - children - when he left. They had endured growing up, they had endured becoming adults, all without him.

“... fine, I will,” he agreed. Claire sincerely wished that she could have arrived eleven years prior to now, to erase all of the pain Hershel’s absence caused. These grown children needed the support he could have given over these years, and the love she could have provided for them in his place. Not that anyone could ever replace Hershel. But if anyone could have understood him, wouldn’t it have been her?

The pair walked a block further to Kat’s flat. Claire’s fist had barely tapped on the door and it swung open to reveal a wide eyed detective.

“Claire!” Kat threw her arms around Claire’s shoulders, pulling her in for a tight embrace. “I was so worried!” she murmured into Claire’s hair. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m so sorry I left in such a rush earlier!” The girl was on the verge of tears.

Claire untangled herself from Kat’s arms and smiled. “All is forgiven, as long as you help me out with something.” The ginger haired girl nodded emphatically in response. “Perfect.”


	9. Tea for Two

There were two tasks Claire had in mind. The first was for Kat and Alfendi to help her spruce up the laboratory. No small feat indeed, but nothing in comparison to the second task: to reopen the investigation into their father’s disappearance. Even the optimistic young detective saw no good to come of pulling that file from the depths of storage, which surprised Claire given what Alfendi had revealed to her. Was it really such a lost cause that nothing would ever come from it? The two children bid their farewells to each other, and Kat welcomed Claire back into her home once more. The fatigue of her vigil weighed on the girl, and she merely stumbled off to bed, leaving Claire standing in the living area alone.

Perhaps both of her issues were ones out of her control. Perhaps time was never meant to be tampered with, and Hershel would never be found. Perhaps she was always destined to die, Hershel to be alone, and his children to be orphaned. Perhaps the Layton family was destined to never be happy and it all started with her choice to time travel. No, she couldn’t bear that last thought. This would not be how it all ended. One way or another, she would fix all of this. Hershel and his children deserved better than this fate. Even if she was always destined to die from the explosion, at least she could try to fix the current time’s problem of a missing Hershel. And even if she could solve her own death, it couldn’t hurt to find Hershel still. She clenched her hands into fists, determined more than ever that either she would find a solution for both of these problems or die trying. So that this future would not be the only one.

The next morning Claire awoke early, only to find that Kat had already left for the day. Funny, how on the one day that she needed her to help on something was the one day Kat suddenly became a morning person. Claire picked up the phone to speak to Alfendi, but Lucy picked up and told her that he was out on a case today. Funny, how on the one day that she needed him to help on something was the one day Alfendi suddenly became an out of the office crime scene detective. She was starting to sense a pattern here. Neither of the children would be helping her in the chore of cleaning. A Layton tradition, it would seem. Hershel was terrible with cleaning and avoided it like the plague as well. His children had acquired a similar allergy to the task. So she would hold them to their second task, finding their father, given that she found something worth their time. Where she would start that search, she didn’t know. But she knew she would be getting nowhere if she didn’t start cleaning up her lab right away. She needed the desk space to do both sides of her research, whether it be reading files on Hershel’s disappearance or doing the calculations for time travel.

Given that she had no other mode of transportation to Gressenheller available, she walked the three miles to the university. The walk wasn’t terrible; the weather pleasant and the foot traffic light, and best of all it gave her more time to think. Where would Hershel have gone? No, no, she needed to focus first on setting up her lab. Get her lab up and running, then look for clues about Hershel. Though as long as he was missing, she knew her heart would be split on the matter of saving herself versus saving him. But no, there again she was wrong. If she saved herself she’d be saving more than herself. She’d be saving Hershel from his pain, and possibly his children from theirs as well. That put things in a better perspective. Yes, she needed to save herself to save them, as backwards as it sounded. Saving herself had to come first, because there was more than herself at stake. Everything hinged on her success or failure to save herself.

She arrived at Gressenheller and wound her way through the lonely halls toward her lab. While yes, she would love to have Hershel at her side to help her solve her own problem, she needed to do this part first, on her own. There was no ifs, ands, or buts about it. She had a job to do. And she would be damned if she let herself get distracted from the task at hand. Not research… yet. Not experimenting… yet. Not fixing time… yet. Cleaning. Just cleaning.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once Claire got started on a project or task, she would not waver from it until it was finished, or until someone pried her from the desk she had inevitably fallen asleep at after an all nighter. It was an old habit that died hard from her undergraduate studies, and had helped her to survive her graduate studies as well. But in the full adult world, it worked against her to create unhealthy situations, such as forgetting to eat, forgetting to sleep, forgetting to pay bills, etc.

The first two days passed with a decent nap on an office chair every night. Enough to be considered sufficient for sustaining life and mental clarity. So did the third and fourth days. In fact, by the fifth day, she had returned the lab to its usually functional state with her tireless cleaning regiment. The equipment all ran as it should, the lab desks were dusted and tidy, the bookshelves organized. She even managed to eat twice a day at a cafe down the street, usually a sandwich and a hot tea.

But as soon as the lab was functional, she began her research and time machine experimentation. And then personal hygiene and self-care went down the drain, all but forgotten. Food became secondary to knowledge, the more powerful and insatiable hunger of the two. Sleep didn’t matter, and why should it? Sleep was a waste of valuable research and troubleshooting time, and time that she couldn’t afford to waste. Time was not her friend, it never was, nor would it ever be.

Day followed night, and night followed day, and soon a few weeks had passed with most of the necessary calculations sorted out. The mechanical components weren’t her specialty, but she could figure out the math to make it work. Then she could try to build it all. Her brain was almost on the fritz after spending so many consecutive hours at work on this. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen another human being. What month was it anyway? Did it even matter?

The fainting spells she had gotten quite used to, leaning against a wall or a desk whenever one would strike. It was hardly a pressing concern when there was so much else to worry about. They weren’t really becoming any more frequent or any stronger in magnitude, so she didn’t see much use in fretting over them. As long as they didn’t impede her ceaseless research she didn’t care. She had to save herself to save Hershel. She had to save herself to save Hershel, she kept repeating to herself. It was what carried her through all nighter after all nighter, and it became the only words on her lips.

On one of those many days, the number of which Claire had lost count (but which she suspected was edging toward three months), there was a knock on the door. A knock. On the door. Which meant there was a person on the other side. But who? Slowly the door opened on its own, and a green haired man peeked around it.

“Ms. Foley? May I come in?” The thought of conversing to another human being was a foreign concept. Had it really been a few months? Surely not, it was probably closer to one. She waved him in, words failing her. A pile of books fell to the floor as she made room for her new guest. Having another person in her space was making her anxious. There was only room for one life form in this lab. One person, dozens of books, several pieces of expensive equipment, and hundreds of papers of theories, thoughts, and notes.

Ernest sat down across from her, setting down a tea tray with a dainty tea set on it. The looping blue flower pattern was familiar to her; it had been Hershel’s own tea set. The thought smacked her in the face. Hershel, why wasn’t she finding him? No, saving herself was going to save him. That’s why.

“I thought you could use a visit, Ms. Foley,” he said apologetically. She studied his face, which was dripping in solemnity. The type of solemnity that signified something bad.

“What’s wrong? Why are you really here?” she asked, sounding more harsh than she had intended. He placed a tea cup in her hands before taking up his own. He gave his tea a good hard stare down.

“Things haven’t been the same since you locked yourself in here. Ms. Layton… she has hardly been herself. When she’s at work she’s distracted, and when she’s not at work she spends her hours looking for her father. And from what I hear from Lucy, her brother isn’t much better.” This hadn’t been what Claire had in mind when she asked them to be hopeful that they would find their father. She didn’t want them to lock themselves away and lose all connection to others and… wasn’t that what she was doing to herself? Could she really be upset with them when she was doing the very same thing?

She massaged her temples and groaned. A cup of tea was exactly what she needed, though something stronger would certainly have been welcomed. Holding the cup to her face, she let the warm steam invade her senses with its bitter aroma.

“So, what do you suggest I do? Tell them to come out of their caves? If they are anything like Hershel I doubt they’d be easy to tear away from their obsession.”

He took a sip of tea and glanced around the room. She followed as his eyes landed on a blueprint she had finally managed to put together after reading enough books to practically give herself an engineering degree. But she still couldn’t figure out how to build the darn thing. It was the one roadblock she kept running into as of late.

“You know, Ms. Layton has a sister that builds and takes apart computers and machines for a living. Maybe you heard of her, her name is Flora Reinhold.” Claire shook her head. The name hadn’t been mentioned, at least as far back as her frazzled brain could remember. But she couldn’t remember what book she read yesterday, so it wasn’t saying much. “Nevertheless, Lady Reinhold could probably help you put that time machine together if you asked. As far as I know, she never refuses a difficult project. You’d be wise to get in touch with her.” Some help could be useful, if her pride would allow it. But pride be damned if it meant being able to see her Hershel again.

“So how do I contact this Flora? Do you have a way to reach her?” Ernest tapped his finger on the lip of his teacup thoughtfully, then hopped to his feet. He quickly gathered the tea items onto the tray and cleaned up their small mess.

“Leave it to me, Ms. Foley. I have an idea.”


	10. One Family

Promptly at 7, Claire knocked on the door of the residence Ernest had directed her to. She hoped she was at the right place. The last thing she needed was the humiliation of-

“You must be Claire!” A woman exclaimed as the swung open. Claire found herself suffocated in a tight motherly hug. It was oddly comforting. The woman’s doe eyes studied her carefully, finishing with a nod. “Some food could do you some good. Come on in!”

Claire followed her into the flat, and was swarmed by four others. Alfendi was complaining about what a waste this all was, but gave Claire a smile. He wasn’t quite as much of a scrooge as he was trying to appear to be. Lucy smiling arm in arm with him destroyed his act. Katrielle was also attempting to act upset about having to be there, giving Ernest a glare from across the room. She made a grand display of hugging Claire and being grateful for her presence, throwing yet another glare to him, who was looking quite uncomfortable. Apparently, Claire wasn’t the only one tricked into this family reunion. At least she was handling it better than the two siblings.

“Everyone! Food is ready!” Flora called from the dining room. The group filed into the room and settled around the table. Alfendi sat next to Lucy on one side, Claire and Ernest on the other, with Kat sitting next to Claire with a pout, and Flora coming in last and sitting at the other end of the table. The meal set out before them looked delicious. It was a beef roast with carrots and potatoes, complete with different sides.

“Flora I’m surprised it looks edible,” quipped Alfendi. Lucy playfully elbowed him.

“We’ll have to see how it tastes,” added Kat with a grin. Flora had the grace not to react to their taunts, opting instead to sample her food. Everyone did the same, very cautiously. Claire found it quite delicious, and the others at the table seemed surprised to discover the same.

“Flora... it’s AMAZING!” shouted Kat with a mouthful of food in her mouth.

Flora tsked, “Mind your manners, Kat. Please swallow before speaking.” But she couldn’t hide the appreciative grin that spread across her face. Claire marvelled at her beauty. She was a dainty woman, strong but delicate. Kind doe eyes and a rounded face, accented by wispy light brown hair. Motherly in all aspects of her appearance, as if she was destined for motherhood. The pictures on the wall revealed this to be true.

Flora followed Claire’s gaze to the picture by the window. “That’s my youngest, Joseph. He’s the wiliest of my four. It was a miracle I was able to get all of them AND my husband out of the house for the evening.” She smiled knowingly at Claire. “It’s amazing how a potential visit from his mother can be enough to make my Henry spontaneously take all of them to the movies.” She couldn’t quite relate, since she had never met Hershel’s parents. But the woman’s familiarity with her was endearing. A clatter of plates signified the meal was over, and Flora began gathering the dishes. Kat and Alfendi rose and helped her clear the table, leaving the other three behind. Claire decided to take the moment to ask Ernest a question.

“Ernest, how much does Flora know about me?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

Ernest chuckled. “Lady Reinhold grew up in a city of robots and traveled with the professor on some of his adventures. Not much could be strange to her.” The three siblings returned and settled back down at the table. Flora turned her soft but serious gaze to Claire, finally taking a longer look at her.

Pursing her lips, she said softly, “I’m sorry that you’re here. I know this must feel so odd to be among us.” She reached over to hold Claire’s hand. “When my father took me in as his ward, the world felt so foreign to me. I had only known one small part of it, and to be led out into the rest of it was overwhelming at times. I can’t imagine how you must feel right now.” Claire’s mind was still so confused over the fact that this woman was being a mother to her, yet she was the daughter of her Hershel. That was perhaps the strangest of all the things she had encountered thus far.

“It is strange, I must admit, but I’ve grown accustomed to most of it by now. How long have I been here?” She glanced over around the table toward Ernest, who was tallying it up on his fingers.

“Four months.” Four? Well, perhaps time really did fly. Flora nodded.

“Still, you’ll probably be much relieved when we can send you back to your own time.” She looked away. “And back to my father.” Claire took a deep breath, pushing down the urge to break down in front of this motherly woman.

“Yes. But I can’t do that at the moment. My time machine... well, I was never the one who built the original one in the first place. I was only allowed to do some of the research and double and triple check the calculations that were given to me. The construction of it was not my expertise. But I hear that you may be able to help with that?”

Flora nodded, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! It sounds like the perfect challenge. A mechanical marvel, a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’d be a fool to turn such a thing down!” Realizing her undignified outburst, she apologized, calming herself down. “I will gladly assist you in your task.” The two younger siblings snickered and she shot a pointed look toward them.

So Claire had a plan to have her machine built, which would be the most time consuming and mind boggling task that there was left. Now to face her second problem, her side quest. The one that these mystery-loving adult children had become obsessed over once more. It was time to play the mother role herself.

“Alfendi, Katrielle. I know you have been trying to look for your father. But I won’t let you help any further.” They began to talk but she raised her hand. “Give me some time to look for a clue, something to follow, somewhere to start the search, and then I’ll let you help me if I need it. With Flora working on the machine, I’ll have some spare time to put into finding him.”

Flora nodded. “Look at yourselves. You’ve all barely slept since you started all of this.” She gave a weighted glance toward Claire, pursing her lips. “I don’t approve of you moving to shoulder their burden, but since your time is limited, I suppose it can’t be helped.”

The night was getting late, so the group began to depart. Alfendi and Lucy said their goodbyes and started their walk back towards the police station. Katrielle sent Ernest ahead to walk alone, while she grabbed Claire’s hand. Flora smiled at them from her doorway as she waved them off, eyes full of warmth and smile vibrant as always. This may not have been Claire’s own family, but she could feel the love that was there all the same.


	11. Mad World

Kat and Claire arrived home to a ringing telephone, and Kat ran to answer it. The smile that she had worn for the majority of the evening fell from her face within the first few seconds of the call. Her face scrunched up in concentration as she listened very carefully to the voice on the other end of the line. With a curt goodbye, she clanged the phone into its holder.

“Claire… I’m so sorry.” Tears were forming in her eyes. “Someone broke into the lab while we were gone.” No, no, it couldn’t be true. Hardly anyone knew of her lab in the first place, so who would want to steal anything from it? It couldn’t be true.

Claire’s vision was red as she burst out onto the quiet street. The only sound that could be heard was her feet smacking against the pavement. Never had she been a runner, but that wasn’t going to stop her from racing to the scene. That lab was her one ticket home.

An officer grabbed at her arm as she flew past him. A few more tried to stall her but it was no use. She was a woman on a mission. The flashing lights, the detectives with notepads, the yellow tape. No, none of this was real. It couldn’t be real. But she had to prove it to herself one way or another. She had to see it.

The tiny windows of the lab had been shattered, and it appeared the intruder had entered through there. A faint blood trail led from the window, past the bookcases which were untouched, to the tables with the lab machinery. The very machines that allowed her to carry out her research. Smashed to bits, with metal and glass shards strewn everywhere.

Of her research, about half of it had been stolen and the other half that remained was in shreds that blanketed the floor. Whoever had done this wasn’t interested in taking the expensive equipment or simply destroying things, or else the machines would be gone and the bookcases toppled. No, even more dangerous than a lunatic wanting to trash a place for the fun or for the money, was a lunatic with a goal in mind. The goal being to prevent her from succeeding in her research.

“No, no, no,” she mumbled, backing away from the wreckage of her former lab. Her shoe slid on a piece of paper, placed carefully by the entrance to the lab, leaning against the wall. It couldn’t have been there before the break in. She picked it up.

 

_Q: What has two legs but can’t stand?_

_A: A dead Claire, which is what you will be soon._

_HA! Aren’t I hilarious? I should have been a comedian._

_Anyway, enjoy your last days, dearie. You’ll be joining_

_HIM soon!_  


There was only one person who had a personal vendetta against her like this. Who had as twisted a mind as this. Who had the ability to do something like this. Footsteps ran up behind her, and Kat, for once out of breath, was doubled over trying to catch her breath.

“Claire… what the hell… who-”

“Dimitri,” she replied in a grave voice. Dimitri was the only one that made sense in all of this. If he couldn’t have her, he was going to make sure that she would never be happy with anyone else. And so it seemed, he didn’t care if she lived at all either. Her life for his suffering. Or, her suffering for his pleasure. Either way would be hell.

Nowhere on earth was safe for her anymore. This man had tracked her to this laboratory, and he would not stop there. Dimitri Allen was a man to be reckoned with. He would follow her to the ends of the earth to be sure that she never had a single moment longer in life, that she would never be happy for one day.

“Listen, we need to get back-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Claire. She shrugged away the hand reaching for her shoulder.

“But-”

“NO!” she shouted, causing everyone to stare. She calmed herself a moment, then tried again. “No, I won’t go anywhere. I’m more certain than ever that nowhere is safe. I’m damned now anyways because I can’t fix the timeline now. And worse yet,” her voice began to crack, “is that all of you are in danger too. No, I have to find Hershel before he does. It’s the one thing I can still do and there will be hell to pay if Dimitri lays even one finger on him!”

Kat’s face softened, and she nodded. “Okay, let’s do this. Follow me.”


	12. The Search for Everything

Kat led her to the office of Professor Hershel Layton. After wishing Claire luck, she set off for home, leaving Claire with some much needed alone time.

As the door closed with a click behind her, the emptiness of the room attacked her. The little office felt like Hershel, it looked like how she pictured his office would look, and it even had the musty scent of old archaeology textbooks. The only thing truly missing from the cluttered quarters was Hershel himself. Without his presence, the space seemed to be holding its breath. Dust collected on the surfaces of books and newspapers. Everything was left as if he had simply left to brew a cup of tea. But that was eleven years ago, and the space still yearned for his warmth.

A yellow light filtered in through the windows onto the hideous orange sofa. Surely he couldn’t have thought this color of furniture actually suited the space? No, there had to be a good reason for him to have it in here. Nothing he held onto lacked a purpose. A memory or a beloved person always was behind a relic. Wasn’t that what led him to wear the hat that she gave him for the rest of his life?

Think Claire, think, she thought. There had to be something in here worthy of her time. The books were interesting, but Hershel would never leave something in one of his books. It could potentially stain the pages. The papers weren’t worth going through either because they were a part of the background. Something Hershel wouldn’t have noticed to hide something in. Claire knew this because she was like him in this way. No, it had to be something that he would notice and would figure someone else might too. Something he looked at often but never forgot… something like...

A picture sat on one of his cramped bookshelves, but unlike almost everything else in the room, nothing crowded it. Nothing obscured its view, nothing touched it. A picture of her. She remembered that picture well, of course. She had just started her research at the lab, and she was trying on her lab coat for the first time. The sleeves were just a bit too long, the coat itself just slightly too short. She had glanced over her shoulder at him to laugh at herself along with him, but she was caught off guard by the flash of a camera. Playfully, she had attempted to wrench the camera from his hands. She had lost, of course.

Gently so as not to disturb the other items precariously stacked on the shelf, she picked up the picture. Her fingers brushed along the back of the frame, and a flap of paper nicked her fingertip. Flipping over the picture frame, there it was. A folded up parchment taped to the back. Just what she had been looking for. With trembling hands, she sat aside the picture to unfold the paper. A business card tumbled out of the makeshift paper envelope, and it bore a faded university crest on the front.

 

_ Professor Desmond Sycamore _

_ Ancient Civilizations and Literature _

_ Gressenheller University _

 

Desmond Sycamore. Could he have been the reason that Hershel was missing? There was only one way to find out. Her clue in hand, it was time to start making some calls.

Dean Delmona was able to help her with most of the information she needed. Desmond Sycamore had been a distinguished professor of the archaeology department, a brilliant teacher. Despite this proximity, Hershel almost certainly didn’t interact with this recluse. Sycamore may have been the most esteemed professor at one point, but his social skills were quite lacking. Then one day, he simply vanished. Disappeared off the face of the earth, and was never seen again. That was almost forty years ago.

The number on the card was from his time as a professor, but given that it wasn’t a university office number, it had a chance to be a lead. It was all she had.


	13. You Found Me

Phone books and a few calls had led Claire to the information she had needed. An address. Now the castle residence of the infamous Professor Sycamore towered before Claire. The cab ride had given her a glimpse from afar of the massive structure, but nothing could have prepared her for this. For a man running away from society, he certainly hadn’t succeeded in hiding from it. Anyone could have spotted this object from the sky, the ground, or even from the nearby coast. But then again, Claire could sense that he had a flair for the dramatic. How could she not with how outlandish this building was near the edge of the rocky shores?  The potential risk a nosy fisherman posed was insignificant to the grandeur of the oversized home.  
  
She knocked against the door, hearing the metallic echo bounce through the airy halls. No wonder it was so hollow, two people couldn’t fill such a massive space with life. Three, if her business card had pointed her to the right place.  
  
The door cracked open to reveal a hunched little old man. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he squinted to see her face.  
  
“The name is Raymond. This is the residence of Professor Desmond Sycamore. How may I help you, miss?” Claire let out a breath she had been holding in. This was the right place after all.  
  
“I need to speak with him, please. Is he available?” The door closed, and Claire backed away in confusion. That was a no, wasn’t it? He wasn’t going to help her, even though she had come so far to find him and to look for-  
  
“The master will see you now,” said Raymond, who had silently reappeared in the doorway. She obediently followed him inside.  
  
If the outside had been over the top, the inside was at least double that. Every inch of the place oozed with antique demonstrations of wealth. It reminded her of an old theater she had frequented in her youth. From the elegant chandeliers to the lush red carpets, it made Claire feel like a piece of poor dust that had wandered into the wrong residence.  
  
Raymond stopped in front of a large dark stained wooden door. The way he stood to the side said as much as words, and Claire proceeded into the room alone.  
  
For a moment, she feared she was alone in the immense library. The lighting was dim and dismal, and she had to blink to let her eyes adjust. In a swiveling throne of an office chair, a man with chestnut brown hair that stopped just above his shoulders sat with his hands in his lap. He was studying her with crimson eyes, not so different from those of Alfendi. The silence created uneasiness in her bones.  
  
The man rose slowly to his feet, stretching to his full height, just a head taller than Claire herself. He extended his hand towards her. “Desmond Sycamore, former professor of ancient archaeology.” Claire took it timidly. The mysterious aura this man exuded made her cautious.  
  
“Claire Foley.” He nodded.  
  
“And I assume you have some rather... sensitive business you wish to discuss?”  
  
“Yes. It is the whereabouts of my...” she sighed. “My former boyfriend, Hershel Layton. I believe he tried to contact you just before he disappeared.”  
  
Desmond remained silent, staring at her with an intensity that made her doubt her own conviction in coming here. Why did this man strike such an intimidation in her?

“... You would be correct, Ms. Foley.” She held her breath, waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t. He simply turned away from her.  
  
“And?”  
  
He glanced over his shoulder at her with a fire in his eyes. “And I’m never giving away his whereabouts. I’ve held them for this long, and I will take them to my grave.” She wanted to ask him to reconsider, but there was something about this man that felt more dangerous, more unpredictable, than the three muggers she had faced combined. “You may leave now, Ms. Foley. I’m sorry that you traveled all this way for nothing.”  
  
The door opened behind her to reveal the loyal butler with white hair. Disheartened, she followed him out of the room. As the door clicked shut, something in her snapped. What was she doing out here? Hershel had disappeared, and she was sure more than ever that this man had something to do with it. And she had to figure out what he had done to her Hershel. She swallowed down her fear, letting it fester, simmer, and ferment into a nasty sort of anger that felt like acid in her blood, and she charged back into the library.  
  
“TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO HIM YOU COWARD!” she screamed at him, with much more force than she had intended. He appeared to be just as surprised, as if he didn’t expect a woman of her stature to ever be filled with so much anger. Before he could recover, she added, “I know you had something to do with his disappearance. I want to know what happened.”  
  
Desmond remained silent, but seemed to consider her words. She stepped closer to him, softening her approach. “Why did he contact you? He could have asked any of his colleagues for help, but he asked you, a former professor who never interacted with him. Why?”  
  
“Let me counter with a question of my own first. Choose your words wisely, Ms. Foley. Why are you interested in finding him? You’re much too young to be an ex of his. I’d say you're approximately twenty-five.” This man was profoundly perceptive. She was quite impressed.  
  
“Twenty-seven, actually. And you’re right, that is too young to be an ex. Except... I’m a time traveler. I came to this time by accident. My time is thirty years in the past.”

At least Desmond had the grace to wait until she had finished to bend over cackling. “You? A time traveler? Thirty years?” He continued laughing until his face reddened. “I... I can’t... believe you thought... that would work on me.” He stood back up breathless. “There has to be a better excuse than that nonsense. Try again.” She wanted to slap him, but that would have been too satisfying for this smug man. She had one more good reason to look for him that didn’t sound quite as outlandish but was still equally true.  
  
“I was asked to look for him by his children.”  
  
His face paled. “Children?” She knew she had a winner. And it was still the truth. It was for them that she was doing this, as much as herself. “What... what are their names?” he whispered, as if afraid of the answer. It was scary how easily this man’s demeanor could change.  
  
“Flora, Alfendi, and Katrielle-”  
  
“RAYMOND!” he screamed in a panic, causing his butler to come rushing to his side. He pulled the little man off to the side and whispered with him. Claire couldn’t hear what they were saying, but both men looked frightened and excited at the same time. What did she say to trigger this?  
  
Desmond broke away from his butler and approached her. “Come with me. There’s something you need to see.” He strode quickly out of the room, leaving Claire running to catch up. They walked down dark corridor after dark corridor, and she lost track of how many turns they had taken. And there were multiple flights of stairs she blindly climbed, feeling like an idiot for being unable to see well enough in the dim light. Damn her bad eyesight. He stopped suddenly, and she almost ran into him headfirst.  
  
“You should know, he hasn’t been quite himself since I brought him here.“ Him? Was he talking about the him she was thinking of? Could it be? Was this villain keeping him locked up in this dark castle?  
  
He pushed the door open, revealing a pastel yellow room. It would have been pretty, except that the man laying in the bed was so much prettier a sight than any paint color.  
  
“Hershel!” she cried, slipping past Desmond to be at the bedside. Besides looking older, he didn’t look terrible. An IV and some tubes connected to him at various places, but he was still himself. Even in slumber, the handsome gentleman she loved radiated warmth and contentment. And most importantly, _life_. He was alive! She would have kissed him if he didn’t look so peacefully asleep.  
  
“Eleven years ago, Hershel Layton came to me for help in his latest research,” Desmond began softly, almost reverently. “But he never made it. I feared that something had happened to him, so I sent Raymond out to search the woods. Sure enough, he was out there, thrown into the ditch like a bag of rubbish,” he said with venom in his voice. “I brought him back here as soon as I could. He remained in a coma for nine long years. Then about two years ago, he began having moments where he would wake up, confused and without a memory of how he arrived here. Slowly, he’s been having longer and longer moments of lucidity, where he’s remembering more bits of his old life. He would mumble places and names, many of which I didn’t know. I thought perhaps he could have been spouting nonsense ones as well as real ones, so I disregarded most of it. But two of the ones he repeated the most were Alfendi and Katrielle.” He cleared his throat. “Ah, I suppose my niece and nephew.”  
  
Claire spun on him. “What?!”  
  
“It’s exactly as I said, Ms. Foley. Hershel is my brother, therefore his children are my niece and nephew.”  
  
“B-brother?”  
  
Desmond rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m his older brother. Now do you want to hear more or not?” She nodded. “Good. Now listen carefully. When he’s awake he doesn’t remember much, but he’s improving. I won’t release him from my care until I can see that he is fully competent. I don’t trust anyone else.” Claire could understand that. She wouldn’t have had much faith in others either if she were in his position. At least he was safe, even if it was in the hands of a questionable but caring older brother. That was all that mattered. “And I must ask that you wait to tell his children that he’s here.”  
  
“Wait, what? Why shouldn’t they know?”  
  
“For one? My privacy. I’ll send him back when the time comes. I’d rather no one else track me down. And second, for his legacy. Look, he has an image, and one that even I would rather not tarnish. Not in this way. It would be a shame for his children to see him like this, and not as the man they remember.” Grudgingly, she had to agree. As much as she wanted them to know that he was okay, she knew Hershel would hate for everyone to see him this fragile and unkept. Especially his children. And especially without his hat, which rested on a bedside table scuffed and dirtied, but nothing that couldn’t be removed with patience. And patience was what Hershel needed from her too at the moment. He would come home when he was able and ready, and she would hold his brother to that.  
  
“Promise me that you’ll send him home as soon as he is ready, no later?”  
  
“Certainly, Ms. Foley. You have my word.” In her head she played back Katrielle's earlier words.  _And us Laytons keep our promises._


	14. For the Dancing and the Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Try to figure out where I stole this scene from :)  
> Hint: it's another equally touching reunion

The next two weeks passed in a whirlwind. While Claire had been away, Flora had finished the machine. Even with some of the notes missing and equipment used to test it broken, she had managed to build it in its entirety. The woman really was a technical genius. Then came the day after those two weeks had passed, the day the professor would come home. Raymond arrived that morning in the professor’s car, with the professor as his sole passenger.

 From the back of the little red car, the door swung open. The impressive top hat of a certain gentleman leaned out. The hat that _she_ had given him. It looked the exact same as the day she left it to him thirty years ago. A flood of memories overwhelmed her. She knew she was hyperventilating, and she ducked behind a building to wait out the panic attack. In, out. In, out. One, two. One two.

The excited squeals of Kat and Flora drifted over to her, and her throat clenched tight. This happy reunion wasn’t where she belonged. Not amongst this Hershel’s family. What right did she have to interrupt his reunion with one of her own? His children needed to see him more than she did. This wasn’t her place to be. Coming here was a terrible mistake, she thought. She never should have come with them here, she should have just-

“Wait, where did she go?” she heard Alfendi ask. Claire held her breath. No, no, this was bad. Very bad. She couldn’t let him see her, it would only break his heart on a day that was supposed to be-

“Claire!” shouted Kat. Pressing a hand to her racing heart, she suddenly realized what she was truly afraid of, why she really ran and hid. It wasn’t just the sense of not belonging, though it was definitely a part-

“Claire where are you?” That was Flora’s voice. It was more than taking precious time away that he could be spending with his children. Although, an amateur time traveler like herself knew just how precious every single moment of a life could-

“Please come out,” begged Alfendi. Steeling her nerve, Claire cautiously took one step closer to the edge of the wall. All she could hear was the thumping of her heart in her chest, the shakiness of her breath in the silence. She wanted to run. Oh god, what she wouldn’t give to just take off down the alley and not face this. But there was nowhere to run in this dead end alley. No one else to run to. Bracing herself, she pivoted around the corner…

There he stood, top hat standing tall atop his head. Her eyes locked with his, and all the world froze. This. This was what she had been truly afraid of. Standing before him now awaiting his reaction to her after all these years. Step… step… step… he slowly closed the distance between them. He paused just in front of her, staring at her face with an unreadable and unchanging expression. Claire feared the thoughts that were running through his head. How upset he must be after all this time. She couldn’t bear the anxious silence and rushed to fill it with her own nervous thoughts.

“I- I know what you’re going to say, Hershel. H-how could I have done this? Left without saying goodbye. H-how did I know you wouldn’t have tried to stop me i-if you really knew what I was working on? I didn’t know how you would have reacted. And… and I was wrong! I-I see that now, but… oh stop being so… so stoic, Hershel! Go on. Shout, scream, say something-” She gasped as his warm hand pressed against her cheek, bringing her face up to his.

Those eyes she had fallen in love with gazed into hers with the warmth that she had been craving for so long. It stole the breath from her lungs. “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” As she was processing his words, he leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. Tears sprung in her eyes at the tender touch of his lips on hers, and she relaxed against him.

Why had she almost held herself back from this? This, that she had dreamed of for five months now. Even if he wasn’t _her_ Hershel, he was the one person in her life that would never change no matter how long she was away. No matter what time she traveled to.

In a universe of complex equations and unknown variables, Hershel Layton was her constant. And Hershel Layton had returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie I cried like a thousand times while writing and editing this chapter alone. I hope you all appreciate the tears I shed for this moment to happen. And I listened to like a million different versions of the song in the title so I cried some more. I love angst and fluff. Get ready for more of both.


	15. La Vie en Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Candaru, and the inspiration for this chapter comes from their prompt they were following which was Hershel and Claire dancing together. Please check out their work, Gentlemen Can't Dance. Thank you!

It had been Claire’s suggestion to bring everyone back to Kat’s place for a celebration, something no one had argued with. Hershel was alive! And her machine was ready to go! What more could the family have asked for with just how many things in the world had gone wrong along the way? But… it was a tearful celebration. Hershel had returned, but Claire would be leaving. And neither of the two could forget it, despite the cheerful atmosphere of the small gathering. Not even food could lighten the mood for Claire, who could only give pitiful glances to him throughout the evening. How could she be happy knowing what she would have to do? That even though she had found him, she would be breaking his heart again too.

Flora had been the one to usher the two of them into the quiet little office space in Kat’s apartment, closing the door behind her. Despite needing to say so much to him, despite needing to do so much, no words could form on her lips. The two sat in silence across from each other, finding the floor much more interesting than any conversation.

“So,” she began, breaking the silence.

“So,” he replied.

She looked across to him with glassy eyes. “You’re finally here, after all this time.”

He refused to meet her eyes, replying, “I could say the same of you.” The two fell into another bout of silence, the air thick with thoughts unvoiced and feelings not shown.

Without a word, Hershel rose to his feet. Claire’s eyes followed him to the record player in the corner. He wore his thinking face expression as he skimmed through some records, and if her heart wasn’t leaden with despair, she would have giggled at the endearing sight. His eyes lit up when he spotted the perfect one, and he cast a sly glance over his shoulder to her as he slid in the disc. The delicate needle lowered gently to the rotating record. Hearing the first notes spill from the machine, Claire gasped.

“That’s our song!” she cried, eyes wide as saucers.

He chuckled in response to her incredulous face. The smile that spread across his face was mirthful and radiant, no sign of the heaviness that had settled within both of them.

Holding out his hand to her, he asked, “Claire Foley, may I have this dance?”

“It would be my pleasure!” she replied, taking his hand.

Old habits die hard, or so the saying goes, and such was true as Claire guided Hershel’s hands into position, placing one on her lower back and taking the other in her own. Their eyes met and they both laughed. When they had been together, Hershel could never figure out how to dance to save his life. Claire had been the only one he could fall into rhythm with, both on the dance floor and in life.

The tinny trumpet of Louis Armstrong swirled through the tense air of the small office. They swayed in time to the music, and Claire was able to forget the weight of uncertainty on her mind. She pulled herself closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Hershel followed her lead, moving both hands to circle around her waist. Claire rested her head on his broad chest. The steady thumping of his heart helped her to drift off into contentment.

 

_Hold me close and hold me fast_

_This magic spell you cast_

_This is la vie en rose_

_When you kiss me heaven sighs_

_And though I close my eyes_

_I see la vie en rose_

_When you press me to your heart_

_I’m in a world apart_

_A world where roses bloom_

_And when you speak angels sing from above_

_Everyday words seem to turn into love songs_  

_Give your heart and soul to me_

_And life will always be_

_La vie en rose_

 

Claire felt a wetness against her cheek. Glancing up, she saw that Hershel’s eyes were clenched shut, tears rolling silently down his chin. Claire took his face in her hands and pulled him into a soft kiss. The last notes of the song lingered in the air as he leaned his forehead against her own.

Neither spoke, the gravity of her situation snuffing out the subtle flames of happiness that had ignited in Claire’s heart. Only dread remained. The reality was that this wasn’t her Hershel. And she didn’t belong here with him. Whether she survived the return to her own time or not, tomorrow she would be gone again from this Hershel. A Schrodinger’s cat. He wouldn’t know if she lived or died, because his timeline would not change either way. This timeline was already set in stone. If she succeeded, her own timeline would diverge from this one, creating a new one alongside his own. And he would never know the difference. But she would have to live with the knowledge that there existed a heartbroken Hershel that would have to live with the uncertainty for the rest of his life. Where once he had had closure that she had perished, her presence had now sentenced him to a life without it. Her hands unconsciously clenched his shirt in her fists.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling away to study her face.

With a sniffle, she replied, “I’m so sorry, Hershel.”

“What do you mean, my dear? You have nothing to be sorry for.” His warm smile only worsened her feelings of guilt.

“No, I do. I never even told you what I was doing. I didn’t even say goodbye. I should have told you from the start how dangerous it all was, but I knew you’d try to convince me not to do it, and I was a fool for leaving and… and…” her rambling apology dissolved into a fit of hiccupping sobs, and he held her tight.

Murmuring softly into her hair, he said, “I’ve already forgiven you for all of that, and do you know why?” She sniffled and shook her head. “Because I love you. I see no reason to dwell on what should have been and what could have been. We’re together right now, and that is all that matters.” He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, then led her over to the old orange sofa that sat off to the side of the office.

Claire curled up next to him, savoring the warmth and comfort of his embrace. As much as she wanted to fully enjoy his presence, her worries wouldn’t subside. They nagged at her and bickered in her head, like a pair of bitter elderly women. _You’re leaving tomorrow, and he’s going to be alone again. Don’t you feel ashamed? You’re not helping him by being here, you’re just hurting him more. How does it feel to be the cause of his misery? You’re pathetic…_

“I’m terrified,” she whispered. His fingers began tracing circles on her back, soothing her. “If this doesn’t work…” she bit her lip to keep herself from finishing her thought.

“It will. I have faith that you’ll succeed in fixing time.”

“How do you know?”

He smiled. “Because I know you, and I know that if anyone can change the course of her fate, it’s you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read some of the feedback from you guys and I am touched. I was going to be so excited to get some kudos if people thought this wasn't complete trash, but positive comments? I am truly blessed. Thank you to everyone!


	16. The Call

Claire awoke the next morning tangled in a man’s arms, and she briefly panicked. Who was keeping her pinned against this couch? She tilted her head upward, catching a glimpse of short unruly tendrils of brown hair. Soft snores greeted her and she ran her fingers through those familiar curls, graying but still as soft as ever. Some things had changed so little over time that she could almost fool herself into believing she belonged here. But her softly glowing fingertips suggested otherwise. Today would be the day either her machine would work and take her home, to  _ her _ Hershel, or she would be pulled back to the moment of the explosion. There were so many things that could go wrong, and yet so much to gain from everything going right. This, this was one of them. What she would’ve given to wake up every morning wrapped in his embrace.

Someone knocked loudly on the office door, attempting to force open the locked handle. The voice on the other side was probably Flora, but she couldn’t be sure. The only thing she was sure of was that there was a cramp in her side from sleeping at an odd angle, and she shifted carefully to ease it.

“Claire,” he mumbled, still half asleep. “Five more minutes.” On any normal day, in an alternate timeline, she would have given in, snuggling back under the warm blanket to prolong the bliss of sleeping by his side. But this was no normal day, and this wasn’t that timeline.

She prodded him gently. “We don’t have time, Hershel.” As if to accentuate her point, black spots swarmed her vision and she fell back against the sofa. Strong hands held her shoulders when she came around, Hershel’s worried face in front of her.

“Are you alright?” he asked. She nodded. “I suppose we must prepare to send you back to your time, my dear.”

Ten minutes later everyone was gathered in the living area of Kat’s small apartment, going over what still needed to be done. Flora required the boys to help her transport the time machine to the right location, and Lucy also being quite strong was tasked with helping them. Since Kat didn’t have much to do, she was in charge of arranging for the street to be closed off, using her ties to Inspector Hastings. And not by accident, Claire and Hershel were given no task.

When everyone had left them, Claire remembered she had one last thing she needed to do. One final gift to give. The day she had bought it seemed so long ago in her past that she hardly recalled where she had left the gift. She had barely known Lucy and Kat then, but she had already felt a connection to them both. In another life, in another time, perhaps Lucy could have been her daughter-in-law, and Kat her daughter. 

Tucked within a cluttered bookcase, she pulled out the gift, covered in dust once more like it had been when she bought it. The colors were still so vibrant, the etchings so intricate. She had known exactly who she would give this to, and that was the man who stood before her.

“I… I hope you like it. I bought it when I had first arrived here in your present time, on a shopping trip with Kat and Lucy.” Her hands trembled as she passed it to his.

“A chess board?” he said, flipping it over in his hands. Oh no, he was disappointed. No, no, no he didn’t like it. She was stupid to give him a chess set, of all the things in the world she could have given him. He studied the etchings on the sides, and a smile spread across his face. “This is Azran!”

She beamed at him. “Do you like it?” 

The lines around his eyes crinkled as the smile grew. “I don’t just like it, I love it! And how could I not? It’s a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, complete with the engravings of an ancient civilization, and,” his voice caught in his throat, “the love of my life gave it to me.”

Claire was in awe of this man who called her the love of his life. Half a lifetime had passed since the day she had died, and yet he looked at her the same way. Perhaps there was some truth to the phrase after all. It sent a warm ray of hope through her body, that if their love could last in this timeline, maybe their love would last in her own.

“Hershel, there’s so much I have to say to you that I didn’t have the chance to before,” her eyes grew misty. “I didn’t say goodbye before and I want to now, but I don’t know what to say-” 

“Please don’t say goodbye,” he pleaded. “You don’t have to say anything at all.” He leaned in for a gentle kiss, setting aside the chess board and pulling her in close. If she had known all those years ago that it would be thirty years before he would hold her in his arms again, perhaps she would have said goodbye instead of running out the door. And he was right, there was so much more that could be said in just one kiss, one touch, one glance, than could ever be said in words. She could feel the tenderness of his aching heart, the passion of his undying love, and the tremble in his breath of tears he was holding back.

“I’m so sorry. If I could stay-”

“You can’t stay, Claire. You don’t belong here with me in this time.” Tears slid down his cheeks. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I kept you here, away from the life you deserve. I lost my chance at a life together with you, but you have a second chance to reclaim it for yourself.”

The phone began ringing, and Hershel reached to answer it. He listened carefully, and after a moment he hung up. “It’s time.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hershel held a blanket around Claire as they walked toward the machine site, just a few blocks away from the apartment. Her glow had become too noticeable. Before they could even arrive at the site she had fainted three times, and his arm was locked around her shoulders for good measure.

The family was gathered around the machine, all with glum faces. Flora wore a determined look as she stood behind the control panel, ready to man her station. Lucy hovered near Alfendi, who remained stoic, but she clung tightly to Kat, both girls trying to hold back tears. And poor Ernest kept his distance from them all. This group, for the time that she had spent here, had been her family. The motherly Flora, energetic Kat, loyal Lucy, caring Ernest, and misunderstood Alfendi. Everyone had given her memories that she’d cherish in her other timeline. Perhaps she would meet all of them in her own time, but none of them would be the ones standing before her sending her off.

Claire approached Kat first, who latched onto her like she would never let go. “I don’t want you to leave,” groaned Kat. Saying goodbye to her would be one of the hardest, she had known this before. But standing here holding her, she didn’t want to let go. Kat had been the first Layton to welcome her to this time, and had helped her whenever she could. And Kat was one of the most hopeful people Claire had ever met. If not for her, Claire might have lost hope of finding Hershel too.

“I know, trust me I know,” soothed Claire. She pulled away and met Kat’s eyes. “I wish I could have been your adopted mother in this timeline. You would have been an amazing daughter.” Kat looked as proud as she could have ever been.

“And you would have been an amazing mom.” Claire had to hold back the raging tears that threatened to spill with Kat’s kind words. If she ever had a daughter, she hoped that she would be like Kat. It was a lovely picture to imagine: Claire being a mother. But she began to glow a bit brighter, meaning her time was drawing nearer, and she snapped out of it.

She turned to Lucy, who was next. “I’m going to miss you, Lucy. Take care of Kat for me, would you?” She wrapped Claire in a bear hug, nearly taking the breath from her lungs.

“Absolutely! Kit is in good ‘ands.” The girls resumed their hold on each other, allowing Claire to move on to Alfendi, who wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Alfendi, please look at me.” He refused, his hair shifting madly from crimson to purple. She grabbed his hand tight. Somber amber eyes slowly shifted over to look at her. There were bags under his eyes, and the skin of his cheeks flushed from tears. “I would have loved to have been your mother, too. We even have a similar taste in wardrobe,” she said, pointing at his lab coat he always wore. His lips stretched into a pained smile as he gave her a brief hug. “Give both halves of your personality a chance to be useful. I think they are both wonderful Alfendi’s.”

Claire began to lose consciousness again, this time Ernest dashing to hold her up. “Ms. Foley! You don’t have much time!” She patted his shoulder.

“Thank you, Ernest, for everything.” The boy blushed, guiding a stumbling Claire over toward the machine. At least she would be sitting for this trip. The time machine was a metal orb encompassing a small chamber meant for a single occupant. Ernest helped Flora strap her in to the seat. Claire could feel her body buzz with a strange energy, which delighted and frightened her. Her time was certainly running out. If she didn’t leave soon she wouldn’t have a choice.

Flora gave her a quick hug, whispering, “Take care of my papa in your time,” before stepping aside to allow Hershel through. He had no words for her, only placing his hand against her cheek. She savored the warmth, knowing it might be one of the last things she experienced if things didn’t go well. A single tear slid down his cheek as he backed away, allowing Flora to finish closing the pod.

Flora began flipping switch after switch, causing the machine to clank and whir. With a final nod to the others and then to Claire, she flipped the final switch, and now there would be no going back. Flora joined her family a safe distance away, watching the machine buck and rock with a worried face. Hershel removed his hat and pressed it to his heart. 

 

Terrible thoughts began racing through her head.

5…

Claire’s breathing sped up. What if this didn’t work?

4…

Could she really fix things in her own time if she did make it?

3…

Did she have a job to go back to?

2…

Would Hershel even want her? 

1…

 

_**BANG** _

  
  


… Something warm and wet splattered against her cheek, and she began to scream.

0.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? A cliffhanger? What just happened? You'll have to wait and see. It's all finished, I just want to maximize the anticipation. I am a cruel trickster god.


	17. From Night to Mo(u)rning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! The one you've all been waiting for!

_The shots, the blood, the look of horror in the eyes of her family. The look of sadistic delight on the face of the man who delivered the deadly blow. Those piercing blue eyes, that were emblazoned into her memory forever. The first shot went to Hershel, his main target, the rival of his love. The second to Alfendi, who had flown towards the shooter in anger. Then Kat, who shared a temper with her brother. Lucy was next, then Flora. Then the killer turned his gaze back to Claire, who could only hear a voice screaming. As her throat burned, she realized it was her own. The murderer raised the gun until it was eye level, pointed straight toward her head. His grin grew, like a Cheshire smile, as the revolver cocked back... then BANG_

Claire woke up with a start, drenched in sweat. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks into the wet sheets around her. She jumped as a bedside lamp clicked on.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His eyes bore the same look of concern they always did when the nightmares returned. As they always did, even with years further distancing her from the event. The memory resurfacing as fresh as the day it happened. The day when she miraculously wound up down the street from the lab bleeding and unconscious. A couple walking down the street had found her. The man and woman were Dr. Richard Bonner and his wife Helen, and they were the ones who had waited with her until help could arrive. Their little boy Clive and Hershel had found each other in the panicked mob, eventually stumbling upon the gruesome scene. As horrific as that day would always be for Hershel, it paled in comparison to the trauma she had suffered. She had seen everyone she loved murdered in front of her, and lastly, almost herself. Almost, in that Dimitri had lowered his aim in the last possible moment to her abdomen, to inflict a nonlethal but critical blow. In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to kill her. Still, she never could relief in that fact.

A warm hand pressed against her cheek. She blinked, the sensation dissolving the trance she had fallen into.

“Claire,” he said. She gulped down a new batch of tears that were starting to form.

“I’ll be fine, just need to take a walk. Go back to sleep, Hershel.” Without protest, he fell back into his pillows. His soft snores were a comfort to her fried nerves. This was real. He was here. He was alive. She hadn’t really lost anyone she loved. Not in this version of things. True, she had lost Dimitri and Bill in this explosion, but she didn’t grieve for them like everyone had expected her to. No, her tainted view of those two had dissolved any feeling of compassion she had had for them. Hershel had found it odd but had never pressed her for an explanation.

Hershel, her dear sleeping husband. Sometimes she felt that she didn’t deserve such a patient, kind-hearted gentleman. Not once had he questioned her on the events that had transpired in the other timeline. All he had been able to glean from her was that it had been an absolutely terrifying experience traveling to the future, so much so that she had sworn off science altogether. Her sudden fascination with cooking and DIY building projects was a strange choice of pastime, but she knew it was all in the preparation for her future family.

She slowly rolled out of bed so as not to disturb her sleeping Hershel. The psychiatrists had told her that whenever the nightmares struck, reaffirming her surroundings would help to stabilize her hold on this reality, and with time would eliminate the nightmares altogether. It never seemed to help keep them away, but at least it gave her peace of mind that things were as they should be. Walking around the house at night was always her one moment of complete solace in those wretched moonlight hours.

She started her careful check by running her hand down the hallway until she reached the young boy’s room. The door gave a slight creak as she pushed it open, revealing her eleven year old son curled protectively around his three year old sister. The moonlight streaming in through the curtains made his crimson curls glow, and her ginger waves shine. She knew the boy would grow to be quite tall someday, and that the girl would become quite independent someday. But that was all in a future that did not exist for her now, at least, not in the way she had known it. What the future now held she did not know. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She placed a hand on her protruding stomach, the subtle movements of the life beneath reassurance of reality. This was real. Bonnie, they had agreed, if the baby was a girl, in honor of the couple who had saved Claire. And as for a boy... well, Hershel had acted funny when she suggested Theodore. And Luke was a lovely name, but that was the name of his apprentice and close friend. So Claire’s top choices were ruled out, but they still had a few months to decide.

For once, Claire was excited not to know what would come next in her life. She had known some of what would happen for her friends and family, because she had seen it all play out to some extent. But this little one was an unknown variable, a brand new story to write that had not existed before. And so it was that Claire could be certain of two things in her life: that her future had been unwound and rewound by her own actions and the presence of this little unknown, and that her fate was no longer bound to the tragedy that had taken her life in another time. She was finally free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to finish this fic. Would you believe that this is only the second ever fic I've finished? My first long fic I've ever finished? Well, it's been a long journey from start to finish, and I'm so glad that I can share this with all of you. I appreciate comments and kudos, and if you enjoyed this please share it with others.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Another big shout out to my artist siyetre for contributing to this project! And a shout out to Luke's Journal for hosting this event and keeping all of us motivated to finish our works. I've had an idea to do a Claire fic for a while now and I am so glad that I had the opportunity to use that idea for this.


End file.
